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Number UL SUBSCRIPTION PRICE, $12.00 PER YEAR. June 5, 189& 

CASSELL’S SUNSHINE SERIES, ISSUED SEMI-MONTHLY. 

PRINCE HERMANN, 

REGENT 

(LES ROIS EX 1900) 


TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF 

JULES LEMAITRE 


BY 

BELLE M. SHERMAN 


NEW YORK 

CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY 

104 & 106 FOURTH AVENUE 


Entered at the Post Oflice, New Yorn, N. Y as Second Class Matter, May U, 1888. 

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THE STORY OF A COMEDY WHICH WAS PLAYED SERIOUSLY. 


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98 


\ 


















PRINCE HERMANN REGENT 


(LES ROIS EN 1900) 


TRANSLA TED FROM THE FRENCH OF 


JULES'LEMAITHE 

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Copyright, 1893, by 
CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY. 


All rights reserved. 















\ 


THE MER8HON COMPANY PRESS, 
R4UWAY, N. J, 


PRINCE HERMANN, RERENT. 


i. 

When the Court had ranged itself on both 
sides of the throne, King Christian, very old, his 
complexion waxy in its pallor, his snow-white 
beard spreading itself over his military tunic, 
half hiding the broad ribbon of the Order of 
the Blue Eagle, said in a loud, commanding 
voice, possessing no sign of tremulousness : 

“M. the Grand Chancellor, we await your 
pleasure.” 

The Lord High Chancellor, Count de Mollnitz, 

standing at the foot of the throne, before a square 

table covered in purple tapestry with gold fringe 

* 

— the table of royalty of the historical melo- 
dramas — unrolled a parchment, from which hung 
a red seal, larger than a host, and scanning the 
phrases with an incredulous shake of his little 
bird-like head, he read slowly and with the into- 
nations of an officiating archbishop : 

“ 4 1, Christian XVI., by the Grace of God, King 




2 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

of Alfaine, to all those present and to all those 
to come give greeting. 

4 4 4 In consideration of onr age and ill health, 
which, though not diminishing our zeal for our 
subjects’ benefit, does not permit of our working 
according to our desire, and moreover makes the 
the governing of all our states difficult ; 

44 4 We therefore delegate all our royal preroga- 
tives to our oldest son and presumptive heir 
Hermann, Prince de Marbourg, Duke de Fri- 
dague, for the space of one year, dating from 
the present day ; 

4 4 4 We command all our subjects, all the officers 
of the Army and Navy, all magistrates, admin- 
istrators, and functionaries, appointed by us, to 
render obedience to the Prince de Marbourg as 
to ourselves ; 

4 4 4 We ask the benedictions of God upon Prince 
Hermann, that he may be enabled to use, with 
wisdom and prudence, and for the greatest ad- 
vantage of his subjects, the power which we have 
delegated to him. 

4 4 4 Signed and sealed with our royal seal, in our 
palace of Marbourg, this 1st day of March, in 
the year of grace 1900.’ ” 

44 Gentlemen,” said the King, 44 we invite you to 
present your homage to the Prince de Marbourg.” 




N 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 3 

Hermann, tlie eldest son of the King, stood at 
the right-hand side of the throne. Forty years 
of age, of medium height, his chestnut beard 
thinly streaked with gray, his bald head, his fine 
features, his evident uneasiness in his uniform 
of General of Division; he looked more like a 
professor of a university than a prince of a war- 
like house. 

The procession began. 

First came Wilhelmine, Princess Royal, her 
usually beautiful but cold face illuminated for 
the moment by an expression of joy and tri- 
umph. Plaiting before the Prince, her husband, 
she saluted him with one of those reverences 
formerly taught in the little court ceremonies of 
the Archduke her father, and the ceremonious- 
ness of which she had scrupulously retained in 
the more sober etiquette of Alfaine. 

To this long courtesy, made much more im- 
posing by the outspreading of the court mantle 
which trailed behind her, the Prince responded 
by a sad smile. Then he took his wife’s hand 
and kissed it. 

As the Princess turned to go back to her place, 
the King made a sign to her to come to him. 

“How is my little grandson?” the old man 
asked in a low voice. 


4 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

“ Very well, sire . 55 

“ I thought him looking a little pale yesterday, 
and they told me this morning that he had not 
passed a good night . 55 

Wilhelmine raised her voice, as she replied : 

“I know not from whence those who tell you 
such things gain their knowledge. Wilhelm is, 
it is true, a little impressionable and nervous, as 
are ordinarily children of a very precocious in- 
telligence. But his health inspires me with no 
serious uneasiness. You must know him, to 
understand him . 55 

4 ‘Then so much the better, my daughter, so 
much the better , 55 said the King, quieting her 
fears with a gesture. 

In the meantime, Prince Hermann was receiv- 
ing the congratulations of his younger brother 
Otto. Otto bowed his great figure derisively, 
his pointed red beard and his long sensual 
nose did not preposess one in his favor, and 
he repeated, with an almost imperceptible 
sneer : 

“My best of compliments, my dear brother, 
my best of compliments . 55 

Hermann replied gravely: “I receive them 
thankfully, Otto. I think them sincere, and I 


PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 5 

am sure that you will do nothing to make my 
task more difficult. ” 

“ I know not what you mean,” hissed Otto. 

But at that moment, with an affectionate ges- 
ture, Hermann had taken Prince Renaud’s hand; 
he was a tall fellow, ungainly in his motions, 
with a broad forehead and very handsome eyes, 
who stammered a little, as though trying to 
remember a prepared phrase, but who ended by 
saying softly : 

“I pity you, my poor Hermann.” 

“Thank you, dear cousin,” the heir apparent 
said simply. “And thank you for coming ; that 
must have cost you a veritable effort.” 

Renaud moved away, having the disdainful 
and uneasy look of a man unaccustomed to these 
ceremonies. Instead of the full-dress uniform, 
to which he had a right, he wore a plain court 
costume entirely unadorned, and seemed now 
to be a little worried at the simplicity of his 
dress, which made him conspicuous amid so 
many glittering uniforms. 

As Renaud was passing in front of the double 
row of maids of honor to the Princess 
Royal : 

“You do not look as though you were enjoy- 


6 


PRINCE HERMANN , RECENT. 


ing yourself, very much, my lord,” whispered a 
woman’s voice behind him. 

Renaud turned. She who had questioned, 
with this pretty familiarity, was a frail-looking 
girl, with delicate features, large blue eyes, and 
a heavy mass of golden brown hair. 

“ And vou, Mile. Frida?” said the Prince cor- 
dially, and as though finding in her a pleasant 
aquaintance. 

“Oh! I, lam accustomed to this. You have 
just arrived from France, my lord ? ” 

“I was in Paris last month, mademoiselle.” 
“And what did you see that was new 
there ? ” 

“ Not a great deal. Paris has her own Metro- 
politan, now. This gives her less the air of a 
little city, but it spoils her suburbs, which were 
so very pretty. And yet the crush is just as 
great at the Montmartre crossings.” 

“And what are they doing in Paris ? ” 

“Very curious things, lean assure you. So- 
cialism and occult sciences are the fashion, as 
were, 120 years ago, the Revolution and Mes- 
meFs tub. They ‘Tolstoise’ you and become 
melancholy over the ‘Quatrieme Etat.’ There 
have been, one after another, two or three 
strikes, which have not relieved matters much, 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 1 

and which have been the fashion even in 
the salons. This has led to enormous financial 
disasters. Add to all this, a series of bad har- 
vests, a climate completely turned topsy-turvy, 
and not a decent spring for fifteen years. Money 
is scarce. But they do not amuse themselves 
less furiously, for all that ; each one seems to 
say : 4 After us, the end of the world ! 5 ” 

“Yes, the end of the Old World ! ” 

Frida said these words almost solemnly, as 
though speaking to herself and following out a 
silent dream. 

Renaud replied : 

“ Perhaps ! ” 

And after a moment’s silence added : 

“If I am not mistaken, you have lived in 
France, mademoiselle?” 

“Yes, for three years.” 

4 4 And you like it ? ” 

44 With all mv heart.” 

“Why?” 

“Because it is the country in which I found, 
in all, less hypocrisy and more goodness. And 
then, everything happens a hundred years 
sooner than elsewhere.” 

Insensibly, Frida and the Prince had elevated 
their voices ; and the murmur of their conversa- 


8 


Prince Hermann, regent. 


\ 


tion was very perceptible above the dull hubbub 
of the ceremony. 

“Well, Mile, de Thalberg! what are you 
thinking of?” cried out Princess Wilhelmine 
brusquely. 

The young girl blushed and was silent. At 
the moment that the Princess was admonishing 
Frida, Hermann, as lie stood near the throne, 
frowned and became so distrait , that he forgot to 
reply to the German ambassador’s congratula- 
tions. 

The maids of honor in their turn defiled before 
Hermann ; Frida’s courtesy was deeper and more 
prolonged than that of her companions; but 
when she raised her head, you might say that 
she seemed to avoid the Prince’s eyes, who, on 
his side, appeared to examine, with a strange 
attention, a painting of a battle by Raguse, which 
hung on the wall facing him. 

And while the sumptuous and mournful pro- 
cession of princes, of ministers, of ambassadors 
and Chamberlins passed in turn, the old King 
seemed to be dozing in his armchair. 

The old King was lost in remembrances. This 
joyless ceremony, in which there was a feeling 
of restraint, of defiance, of discouragement, re- 




PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 9 

called to him another, a magnificent and joyful 
one, the feast of his own coronation, in which all 
Alfaine, people, bourgeoisie , and nobility had 
really mingled in a unanimous thought. How 
beautiful that had been ! And with what invinci- 
ble hope he had felt himself sustained ! With 
what faith, with what a deep consciousness of 
the providence of his mission and the divine 
unction so recently laid on his young forehead, 
he had taken up his task as King ! 

He had sacrificed everything to it, he had cast 
out from his natural affections all that did not 
coincide with his duty as sovereign and all that 
could possibly turn him from it. He had almost 
ignored pleasure, avoiding women and distin- 
guishing no one with his attentions. His mar- 
riage was altogether a political one, being but 
a treaty of alliance with a neighboring country. 
And during thirty years he had patiently sub- 
mitted to a wife, good, doubtless, and who, like 
himself, was penetrated with the rights and the 
duties of her position, but without beauty, pos- 
sessing a rigid virtue and a narrow devotion. 

At first his zeal and his selfabnegation had 
been rewarded. A war with Austria, brilliantly 
led, and for which he had largely paid himself, 
rectified to his profit the frontiers of Alfaine. 


10 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT . 

His people adored him. By his strict economy 
and his scrupulous application to the affairs of 
the kingdom, the country was prosperous. The 
natural resources of the soil were for the first 
time seriously cultivated, and the industry de- 
veloped with suddenness and in surprising pro- 
portions. But, all at once, a strange fact showed 
itself. In this kingdom, formerly protected 
against revolutionary contagion by its geograph- 
ical situation, and in which the institution of 
absolute monarchy had until then been pre- 
served intact, the rapidity of its industrial prog- 
ress had this unexpected result : that the social- 
ist question found itself placed there before even 
the political question. Freed from poverty and 
its attendant resignation, the workmen of the 
capital, and of the large cities, little by little lost 
their affection for the King and held him respon- 
sible for the injustice of their condition, losing 
sight of the fact that they owed it to him that 
their condition was already so much bettered, 
that they were able to feel this injustice more 
vividly. Terrible strikes broke out, which the 
King rudely put down like a man accustomed to 
hold no doubts as to his rights, and who never 
shrank from doing his duty. 

And so, after a labor of fifty years, he saw 


PRINCE UERMASX. REVEST, \ 


11 


himself misunderstood by those for whom he had 

mi 

worked so faithfully ; hated by some, suspected 
by others ; resp>ected still by the nobility and the 
rich, but considered by them, however, as equally 
incapable, because of his great age, either to 
resist the evil bv force or to remedy it bv seem- 

•i V 

ing concessions to the u new ideas .' 5 To be brief, 
he no longer existed ; for some he was a tyrant, 
and for the others he was but a “ vieux 
This, more than his infirmities and his ills, had 
decided him to abdicate in favor of his oldest son. 
Hermann was looked upon as a Liberal ; the 
crowd loved him. and waited for him to give 
them the “reforms" thev clamored for. This 

mi 

son, whose virtue and honesty he could not help 
esteeming, had always grieved the King by the 
strangeness of his conduct and his ideas, or at 
least those which he showed to the world; taci- 
turn, secretive, in love with solitude, a stranger 
to all military tactics, the avowed enemy of all 
pomp and show, disdainful, melancholy, always 
buried in his books ... no thought in com- 
mon between him and his wife, this proud Prin- 
cess Wilhelmine, who was very u v ieux regime: - 
archduchess in heart, energetic and serene, and 
with whom the old King felt himself in conform- 
ity with her principles and beliefs. If she could 



12 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 


only have had some influence over her husband! 
But for a long time Hermann, buried in his rev- 
eries, had discouraged any attempts on her part 
by his stubborn and silent apathy. And it was 
to this son, of whom he was so little sure, that 
the old man found himself constrained to confide 
the government of his kingdom. Ah ! the mys- 
terious and worrisome deposer ! 

Could he find, at least, a little consolation in 
his other son? Prince Otto was a brute, steeped 
in vice, overwhelmed with debts, the host and 
debtor of all the Israelite barons; spending most 
of his time in Paris, a prince of the boulevards 
and the all-night restaurants. 

As to Prince Renaud, the King’s nephew, an 
orphan from childhood — how they do die off in 
these old royal families — and who had brought 
himself up, what could be expected from this 
fool, this Bohemian, who did not put in an 
appearance once a year at Court, who lived, 
hail-fellow well met, with artists, with poets and 
newspaper writers, and who publicly boasted of 
his contempt, or better, ignorance, of his birth 
and his blood. 

These were all the members of the royal family. 
For was it necessary to count Hermann’s 
son 3 little Prince Wilhelm, a child of five years, 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 13 

a puny, nervous boy, always sick, and who 
would probably not live ? However, his mother 
was healthy and robust and his father had led a 
good life. What sin, then, was this poor little 
innocent one expiating ? The fighting folly of 
his ancestor, Christian XI., or the erotic folly 
of his great-great grandmother, Queen Ortude? 
Or was he paying for the physical and moral 
burden, the superhuman labor of a long line of 
princes, administrators, and soldiers, stiffened all 
their lives into an attitude and an uninterrupted 
effort, and nearly all dying at the task ? Or 
else, was it the effects of several centuries of in- 
termarriages, or purely political marriages, mis- 
mated and loveless ; had they left in the veins of 
the last of the De Marbourgs a corrupt and dis- 
eased blood ? 

Poor kingly race ! As their blood became im- 
poverished, so their hearts seemed to fail them. . . 
It was the same all over Europe ; a diminution 
of faith and royal virtue displayed itself in the 
greater number of reigning families ; a lassitude, 
a disenchantment, a terror of reigning was to be 
found among them all. They seemed to chafe at 
being set apart ; an unavowed desire to return to 
the normal life, to the life of all the world, could 
be perceived in them; as if the isolation of their 


14 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


majesty weighed upon them, as though they felt 
more ennui than pride. And if many of them 
only affected to live in the same fashion, and if 
they still retained around them some remains of 
their ancient ceremony, it was but from neces- 
sity; they still felt that they were but simple 
units, and that all the moral maladies of the cen- 
tury were wiping out the royal houses. 

And in an ever increasing sadness the old King 
passed in review the almanac of kings for this 
year of 1900 : Here an empress, a victim to a 

nervous disease, poisons herself with morphine 
and is publicly known as the friend of a circus 
rider ; there a scribbling queen, who, in prefer- 
ence to exercising her functions as queen, took 
up that of a man of letters, begging for the ap- 
probation of her bourgeois co-laborers, causing 
her writings to be printed in every language and 
entering into competition for academical prizes ; 
elsewhere a morose king, who never showed 
himself to his subjects, whose sole thought was 
towai’d economies to enable him to organize 
scientific voyages, and who aspired no higher 
than to be known as a great explorer. Further 
on a music-mad prince, an actor at heart, 
drowned himself one night amid his swans in a 
Niebelungen lake worked by operatic machinery. 


« 


PRINCE HERMANN , RECENT. 15 

Another prince had committed suicide with his 
mistress, another had married a dancer. . . It was 
the royal houses who, for a number of years, had 
furnished the greater proportion of faits divers. 
Kings were acknowledging themselves like unto 
other men. Of kings believing in their divine 
right, there but remained, to his way of think- 
ing, the Emperor of Germany, the Czar, the 
Grand Turk and, lastly, himself, the old King of 
Alfaine. The others thought more of the utility 
of their public mission and the traditions of 
which they were the representatives. 

And republican France, a prey to chronic up- 
risings and shaken by feverish outbursts, and 
wasting her strength trying to organize the so- 
cialism of the etat , was still infatuated with 
this mortal experience. Spain had been a 
republic for the past five years. In England, 
Belgium, and Italy the monarchial system was 

{ tottering. Something seemed to be wrong in 
Europe. 

“ Alas ! ” thought Christian XVI., “ the kings 
are dying out because they are no longer believed 

II 


/ 


II. 


The procession was ended, the King dismissed 
the Court and said to Prince Hermann : 

“ My son, I wish to speak to you .’ 5 
The immense hall of massive architecture, and 
of a sumptuousness whose heavily gilded decora- 
tions were dimmed by the rust of time, was filled 
with remembrances of centuries. Facing the 
throne at the other end of the room, standing on 
a golden pedestal, was the bronze statue of 
Christian I., the founder of the kingdom; his 
helmet was formed of two eagle-wings, his two 
hands rested on his great sword, which he seemed 
to plant in the ground before him, like a cross. 
The throne upon which Christian XVI. was 
seated was of great simplicity, of chastely carven 
oak, almost barbarous in its style and remarkable 
only for its massiveness ; it was the throne of Otto 
III., the great man of the family. And by one 
of the windows could be seen, on the other side 
of the river, the byzantine dome of the Marbourg 
cathedral, where for more than nine hundred 
years the kings of Alfaine had been consecrated. 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


11 


Hermann approached him with a respectful 
but constrained attitude. There had never been 
the slightest intimacy between this son and 
father, whether it was that the former was inca- 
pable of giving vent to his feelings, or that both 
were equally incomprehensible to each other. 
Feeble, with dull eyes, his limbs distorted with 
rheumatism, and filling but one corner of Otto 
III.’s monumental chair, Christian XVI. still 
resembled, by the cut and expression of his face, 
the portraits of the kings, nearly all robust, 
energetic, and strong, which covered the walls of 
the old picture gallery. He was indeed of their 
race. But Prince Hermann, with his refined 
and softened features, appeared to belong to 
another family. He had the air, before this silent 
range of ruling faces, of a studious clerk astray 
in a gathering of haughty barons. 

The silence was prolonged. . . At last the 
King made an effort and said slowly, with a 
solemn gravity : 

“ My son, I know that you are good, laborious, 
and faithful to your duties, and I know to what 
loyal and pure hands I have just remitted my 
authority. And notwithstanding, I cannot rid 
myself of an uneasiness. The situation is a diffi- 
cult one. The people, forgetting that no matter 


18 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


what may be their miseries, the most efficient 
means of remedying them is to submit docilely 
to the chief whom God has given them, and who 
is incapable of betraying them, as the King’s 
interest is identical with his subjects, and that 
the King has but one and the same soul with 
them ; the people rebel and cry out loudly for 
what they call reforms. It was necessary for me 
to choose between a hazardous resistance and 
concessions which I considered still more dan- 
gerous yet. To resist, I no longer possessed the 
strength. To yield, I had not the right. It 
remains with you, my son, to act according to 
God’s inspiration. I implore you one thing, 
and that is to distrust a certain sentimentality 
which is in you, and also a pretended philosophy 
which you have learned in the books of the cen- 
tury. You are not fully enough convinced that 
you are King by the will of God and that God 
is with you. What is killing royalty to-day 
is, that in the first place the kings no longer 
firmly believe in their royal right, and also, that 
they have, although kings, the ideas and the pas- 
sions of simple subjects. Alas, your brother Otto 
might have, stronger than you, the right concep- 
tion of sovereignty ; but Otto sees badly. Your 
Cousin Renaud is a fool. I — I am old and sickly 


■ 



and will soon pass away. In consequence, the 


kingdom of Alfaine lias no other support but you. 
Lift up your heart then, that the sentiment of 
your responsibility may give you the sense and 
the faith which are wanting in you, and faith give 
you the courage to act, even against the people, 
for the benefit of the people. Be a King, it is 
your right, but take care to be more than a man.” 

Hermann smiled. 

.“Have I said anything which amuses you?” 
asked the old man. 

“My dear father,” said Hermann, “do not 
worry yourself. I love you, I venerate you, and 
I desire to resemble you. But you bid me to be 
more than a man, and if there is one thing of 
which I am sure, the proof of which is implanted 
firmly in me, it is that I am but a man. Yes, I 
have tried, I have represented to myself how 
strange it was to find myself raised above thirty 
million other human beings, and that this strange 
thing was willed by a Grod. . . I cannot find 
one supernatural trait in myself. No, truly I 
have not this sentiment of a divine unction ; an- 
alogous, I suppose, to that which fills the souls of 
believing priests.” 

“This sentiment,” replied the king, “pray to 
God to give you, and he will give it to you.” 


20 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 


“God ?” ejaculated Hermann. 

“ Do you not believe in God ? ” the King asked 
imperiously. 

Hermann lowered his eyes and did not reply. 
Christian tapped his thin lingers nervously on the 
arm of his ancestor, Otto III.’s throne — he, who 
believing in God and feeling God with him, had 
caused five thousand men to die on the fields 
of battle, conquered vast territories, and been a 
great prince. 

“Forgive me, my father,” quietly replied 
Hermann, “ and reassure yourself. I believe in 
my duty and in my right. If I do not inherit 
from my ancestors the clear conscience of being 
directly invested by a God, Emperor of Kings, I 
feel myself invested by these ancestors them- 
selves and by the generations which have obeyed 
them across the centuries. My right, if it does 
not come to me from Heaven, comes to me from 
the past; and if it does not come to me from 
above, it comes to me from earth. The people 
of Alfaine have given witness until now that 
they loved me. It is their consent, their con- 
geniality with my thoughts, which confer my 
divine rights upon me. After all, it comes to the 
same thing, if you only reflect upon it. Have 
confidence in me then.” 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


21 


“But, if it should so happen, that your 
thoughts should find themselves in opposition to 
the greater portion of your subjects, those most 
blinded and ruled by their instincts, what would 
you do ? ” 

“This could only happen by a misunder- 
standing, for I could never desire aught else 
but their good. This misunderstanding I should 
apply myself to dispel by some striking witness 
of my charity toward them.” 

“And if they still refuse to understand 
you ? ” 

“I would enforce my will upon them, know- 
ing it to be right and good.” 

“ Even by force ? ” 

“I am confident that they will never reduce 
me to this necessity.” 

“But should they reduce you to it never- 
theless ?” 

“I would then be the most unhappy of men, 
but I would do my duty.” 

“ Yes, and yet in thinking of it, you are over- 
whelmed in advance. Why, unless it is that 
your will and your judgment have no support 
outside of yourself ? There are in the role of king 
duties so terrible that one would never have the 
courage to accomplish them if one did not feel 


22 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


one’s self enlightened and sustained by a divine 
thought and will.” 

“ The sentiment of justice, the respect for 
human personality, and charity for mankind 
will be sufficient light for me. And seeing 
clearly, I will know how to act.” 

“What do you propose doing, then?” 

“To prepare a social condition which will 
diminish individual suffering and in that way 
diminish the inequality of rights. . . ” 

“Do you then think that you can suppress 
suffering by laws and institutions ? They are not 
diminished even then, for man, in the measure 
that his material condition is ameliorated, dis- 
covers new ways of suffering. The true object 
of royalty is the maintenance of a hierarchy 
willed by God, by which order subsists, the first 
good for the people, and where each in his place, 
obedient and devoted, works with his neighbor 
for his eternal welfare. The people’s misery is, 
perhaps, one of Providence’s designs.” 

“ Then that is a design which you will excuse 
me from adoring. . . I think of wliat a miner’s 
life is, who, digging underground twelve hours a 
day, earns just enough to keep his wife and 
little ones from dying of hunger ; I think of 
those still more miserable yet, and my heart is 


P1UNCE HERMANN , REGENT. 


23 


very heavy. . . And as to that social hierarchy 
of which you speak, I am ignorant as to whether 
it is the work of God, but I know that it owes 
its origin to the violence of men, and that lessens 
the respect with which it might inspire me. . . 
For the first time in my life I am telling you my 
inmost thoughts, my father. You have never 
wished to hear them before.’’ 

“ We do not speak the same language, my son. 
We could talk together for a long time thus 
without understanding one another. . . This is 
singular, too, when you come to think it over ; 
you have been a good son ; you passed a serious 
youth and I never needed to reproach you, and, 
notwithstanding, there has always been some- 
thing, I know not what, between us which has 
separated us. It was not my fault. Your edu- 
cation was my greatest care, and I strove to form 
in you, whether by lessons or by example, a royal 
soul. You allowed yourself to be molded, you 
were not indocile ; but each day I felt you going 
further and further from me. . .” 

The old man became silent. A tear, too small 
to drop, nestled in the corner of his age-dimmed 
eye. Presently he continued : 

“ Alas ! I have long asked myself if the proof 
you wish to attempt is even permissible % In any 


u 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


case, attempt it according to your conscience, 
because necessity presses as well. Iam, at any 
rate, certain of your lionesty and your good faith, 
and I am persuaded that you will defer the exer- 
cise of this power, in accordance with your doubts 
and your chimeras. From the depths of the 
retreat to which I am about to retire, I will pray 
God that he will enlighten you and strengthen 
you, and that he will have you and my kingdom 
under his holy protection.” 

A strange tenderness swept over Hermann, 
dimming his eyes, and causing him to nervously 
twirl the ends of his drooping mustache. 

“ My dear father,” he said, “ I fear that in this 
conversation my speech has more than once 
exceeded my thoughts. Do you not see that I 
am very much moved? You are right ; action 
gives faith, and I count on the peace which the 
Gospel promises to men of good will.” 

And with a movement which belied some of his 
preceding speeches, Hermann bent his knees and 

s 

said : 


“ My father, bless me I ” 


Hermann, as lie entered his own private study, 
was very much dissatisfied with himself. What 
feeling had impelled him to say things to his 
father that it was not right for him to hear % And 
by what weakness had he denied them later, or 

9 

at least, erred in what he had just confessed ? 

“ How little master I am of myself,” he mur- 
mured angrily. 

His eyes rested on an old picture which hung 
over his work table. It was the portrait of one of 
his ancestors, Hermann II., who had assassinated 
his brother, whom he feared ; poisoned his first 
wife, in order to consummate a marriage more 
advantageous to the kingdom, and gloried in the 
blood shed in a revolt of famished peasants. He 
passed as a great king. Historians made excuses 
for him, some even glorified him ; had not all his 
crimes been committed either to save the crown 
or to assure the unity of the kingdom ? 

This old picture was a chef -d? oeuvre. From 
the intense blackness of the background stood 
out forcibly a pale head, all nose and jaws, with 


26 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


two hard eyes of painful intensity. The right 
hand stood out distinctly, a terrible hand, which 
grasped the scepter like a weapon. 

“Oh,” thought Hermann, “if Iliad the energy 

* 

of this brute to will contrary to what he willed.” 

This portrait of his fierce namesake Hermann 
kept there under his eyes, as a memento of all 
that he had sworn to avoid, of all that was most 
horrible to him in this world : domineering pride, 
brutality, cruelty, and dogmatism ; for his mur- 
derous ancestor had been a believing king, and 
from piety as much as from political motives had 
been a zealous protector of the Church. 

How was it that he, the last of his race, could 
differ so on this point? Not only his tastes and 
his culture, but his whole inner nature seemed 
in revolt against his violent ancestors. 

His past life came back to him by snatches, by 
short apparitions. First, his loveless childhood, 
early submissive to a rude discipline. How he 
had wept when only eight years old, the day they 
had first put on him the uniform of an officer of 
the guard ! Fixed, in an obstinacy for which he 
could give no reasons, he resisted, sobbingly, as 
though he had a presentiment that this first 
uniform was a prise cP habit, and for life. He 
could feel his indignant father’s heavy hand upon 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 27 _ 

him. But this access of childish despair had 
been his only open revolt. Since, he had appar- 
ently submitted to everything ; he had silently 
accepted his destiny of Prince Royal. 

Had he been loved by his father and his mother ? 
Perhaps. He did not know. He was tempted to 
think that only one human being had truly loved 
him ; the first of his preceptors, an old professor 
of the University de Marbourg, a gentle, timid 
man, who trembled like a leaf when the King 
came suddenly into the schoolroom. . . But, 
taught by him, the facts of the Greeks and the 
Romans became as interesting as fairy stories. . . 
Hermann still remembered his tears of enthusiasm 
over Harmodius and Aristogiton, over the Greeks, 
over Spartacus and the legend of William Tell. . . 
Why, out of all the lessons taught by this old 
professor, had he retained, after an interval of 
thirty years, precisely these histories ? He remem- 
bered having coming across, in the library of a 
great scholar one day, books which described a 
marvelous country, without either the very rich 
or the poor, the men were all shepherds and 
good ; and other books, in which the words 
“ salary” and “capital” were most frequently 
mentioned, and of which he had understood but 
little else than that there was on this earth 


28 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

a great deal of unhappiness. . . But this old 
master, so gentle and so amusing, who often sat 
him on his knees during the lessons, he had gone 
away one day, and Hermann never knew what 
had become of him. 

Then he recalled an uprising which he had 
watched from one of the palace windows . . . 
men in rags, ugly to look at . . . one of them 
carrying a black flag. . . All at once there was 
a noise of guns ; men fell, their mouths gaping 
wide open ; a woman, bathed in blood, lying on 
the pavement, and other women, who fled, utter- 
ing piercing cries. . . The royal child burst out 
crying (he seemed to be always crying, this 
child!) and he asked: “ Why did they hurt 
them ? ” His governess’ only answer was to drag 
him from the window against which he was 
crouched, to see better the sight which tilled him 
with such great fear. . . 

He saw himself later, traveling in Germany, 
faithfully following a course of philosophy at 
Heidelberg. The professor, an illustrious man, 
of European renown, who in his lessons let his 
ideas go to the very end, and who, finding in 
metaphysics a species of volatile intoxication, 
allowed himself to be carried away by the auda- 
cities of speculative destruction and reconstruc- 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 29 

tion, was, nevertheless, in real life, respectful of 
useful contingencies, hungry for honors, deco- 
rations, and places, and profoundly impressed 
by the greatness and the grandeurs de chair. 
But this exercise of reasoning thought, which, 
on Hermann’s part, was perfectly sincere, had 
decidedly purged him of all the involuntary 
prejudices which remained in him of birth or 
education. While he unmade and remade the 
world in his brain, and applied himself to the 
consideration of all things from the universal and 
absolute point of view, he completely freed his 
moral character from the accident which had 
caused him to be born to the throne ; and not 
only in his ways of living and his habitual 
judgments, but even to the depth of his heart, 
le vieil homme had not only stripped him of 
his Christianity, but had also torn his princely 
mantle from his shoulders. 

His sojourn in Paris had accomplished this 
inner labor. Hermann lived in Paris for sev- 
eral months in a real incognito , knowing that 
this was the only way for a prince to gain an 
exact insight into things. A prince cannot live 
like a prince but in an extremely restricted world ; 
he finds himself on a footing of intimacy with 
but a small number of men ; he can know men 



\ 

30 PRINCE HERMANN > REGENT. 

in this way but imperfectly. He sees them 
under a particular and very narrow angle, and in 
a respectful or defiant attitude. Nearly every- 
where he is wearied or he wearies. He lives and 
dies isolated from the great bulk of humanity. 
He sees nothing of the grand comedy but some 
specially prepared fragments. His presence is 
sufficient to change the character of the spectacles 
at which he assists, and things are not sincere 
for him. Hermann had wished to shake off the 
excess of humility which shows itself for princes, 
and take up the humility which always car- 
ries weight with human judgments. He ar- 
ranged to live in Paris free, mingling with 
humanity, to know society in all its stages, under 
all its aspects, in its picturesque sides and in its 
marshy recesses, to jostle elbows with extreme 
misery, and to consider it near by. 

He had loved Paris. The spirit of this city of 
joy, of irony and disrespect which you breathe in 
with the very air, had surprised and charmed 
Hermann, without his remarking that this irony 
is sometimes a little thin, and that it is often but 
a covering for some foolishness or snobbery. 
He had conceived a true esteem for the light 
skepticisms stripped of pedantry, bordering on 
indifference, which, though superficial, is often 




PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


31 











joined to the most profound wisdom and to a 
sweetness, which, though inactive, is equivalent 
in more than one case to charity itself. 

But, at the same time, the fear of not think- 
ing liberally, of retaining, unknown to himself, 
something of his aristocratic and royal preju- 
dices, or, in the depths of his conscience, be- 
lieving himself hewn from another block than 
the generality of men, and surprising in his judg- 
ments, his bearing, his gestures, the effects of 
an involuntary and secret persuasion, aroused 
in him great uneasiness. He would voluntarily 
have deputized a servant to repeat to him each 
day, and each instant of the day: “ Remem- 

ber, that though thou art a prince, thou art but 
a man ! ” He feared, you might say, the blood 
which flowed in his veins. And this apprehen- 
sion, this continual attention to himself, commu- 
nicated to his bearing, and to all his conduct, a 
stiffness, an uncertainty, which ended in nerv- 
ousness and sudden delusions. 

If he was not in accord with the Princess Royal, 
it was not because he had married her without 
having a voice in the matter. This marriage, 
made through a national and dynastical interest, 
might, perhaps, have been a happy one. Wilhel- 
mine was beautiful, intelligent, and virtuous, and 


32 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

it did not seem that it would call for any very 
great effort on his part to love her. And it was 
not the difference in their characters, nor in their 
opinions on the general duties of royalty, or 
special political questions, which had separated 
him, little by little, from her. It was something 
more intimate and more irretrievable. That 
which displeased Hermann, and made him angry, 
was, that amid all the virtues and graces of this 
woman, there was an undefinable, imperturbable 
complaisance in the knowledge of her birth and 
his rank ; it was a beatific pride which could, 
not be explained, which he perceived flitting 
across the smallest actions and in every word of 
this daughter of an archduke ; it was to feel 
that Wilhelmine, while she could be sweet and 
benevolent to the lower in rank, esteemed herself 
of an essence infinitely superior to those who 
were not of the blood royal ; that the religious 
faith and piety of this charming woman meant 
nothing ; that these Christian maxims of the equal- 
ity before God were, for her, but formulas which 
she repeated with her lips ; and though good and 
compassionate toward men, never, never would 
they be to her “ fraternal.” And to come in 
contact at each moment, in this honest Princess, 
with this serene consciousness of the pre-ex- 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 33 

cellence of lier nature ; to see budding stupidly 
in her a feeling that he had felt it his duty to 
tear out of his own heart, called forth, in the 
Prince, something closely resembling the hateful 
anger of a demagogue. 

The divorce between their exterior life and 
their intimate thoughts was thus completed. As 

his father was often ailing, he had been obliged 

• 

in the last years of his role of heir apparent to 
go through a life of parade and presentations, 
which though he reduced to the indispensable, 
was sufficient to overwhelm him with ennui. He 
was in the position of a priest who has ceased to 
believe and yet who continues to celebrate the 
Mass. He hated the world of the Court, the 
chamberlains, the great officers, high dignitaries, 
full of importance and futility. And he felt 
around him, though prostrate and mute, the 
unspoken defiance of all these people, and behind 
them the already hostile attitude of the nobility, 
the financial bourgeoisie , of the high clergy 
and all the privileged classes. . . Doubtless, it 
could be defined as a limitless power which his 
father had just remitted to him ; but, in reality, 
this power was not absolute, but on the condition 
of acting up to the sense of the secular institu- 
tions which took their origin from him and 


34 PlilNCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

served liim as supports. Wliat an enormous 
mass of bad will, interests, and traditions lie must 
break through in order to do his duty ! Would 
he have the requisite strength ? 

With his elbows on the table, his forehead in 
his two hands, he cried in a low voice : 

“Ah, Frida! Little Frida ! What would be- 
come of me had I not you % ” 


Beautiful, serene, still trailing after her the 
heavy folds of the stiff brocade of her court robe, 
which she had not yet taken the time to lay aside, 
Willielinine entered. 

Hermann rose wearily, advanced toward the 
Princess, and kissed her hand. 

“ To what do I owe the honor ? ” 

“I wished,” she replied, “to be the first to 
offer you my congratulations after the cere- 
mony.” 

“I am very much touched,” said Hermann. 

He added with a little irony : 

“ You should be very happy, for now you are 
a Queen, or, at least, one in name.” 

“ Happy, yes . . . and uneasy also. May God 
aid you, Hermann, and show you your duty !” 
“Which means to say that, according to your 
way of thinking, I do not see what it is \ Yes, 
I know in advance that you do not approve of 
my projects and that you are divided between 
the joy of seeing all the power in my hands, and 
the terror of thinking what I am going to do 


36 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


with it. I am very much obliged to you, all the 
same, for your kind words.” 

“ Alas ! ” she said, “ I am not ignorant of the 
inutility of them. Notwithstanding all the 
years we have lived side by side, we are now 
further separated than if mountains and seas 
divided us.” 

And, as he protested by a gesture, she con- 
tinued : 

“ Oh, the rupture has not been a public one. 
I cannot even say upon what day it took place. 
It was less a rupture than a species of untying. 
I will grant you the grace, however, of having 
saved appearances. . . The Prince, my hus- 
band” — and she smiled sadly — u continues to 
come officially and on fixed days to my chamber. 
But, all the same, I am to you but the Princess 
Royal — I am not your wife.” 

Purposely or by chance she had seated herself 
on a footstool at Hermann’s feet, her head bent 
forward, in an attitude which brought out the 
rounding curves of her neck and shoulders. 

But he replied coldly : 

u It was you who willed it so. . . Remember 
how we were married. You had been reared in 
a little court, old-fashioned and pompous, as an 
Archduchess of two hundred years ago. I — once 


PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 


37 


freed from tlie inhuman discipline to which my 
father had confined me in my early youth — lived 
as much as I possibly could, first as a simple 
scholar, then a traveler, and my dream had been 
to continue to live as simply as possible. 

“ We had never seen each other. However, I 
was full of hope. I thought to find in you a 
wife, and I set myself to love you, for your youth 
and your beauty, and also for the loyalty of your 
character. . . But you were as though congealed 
in your role ; you adored this parade, which I 
detested, and even in our intimacy your feelings 
and your gestures still retained an official and 
royal character.” 

“Yes . . . the bearing of the Altenbourgs, as 
you say . . . this bearing that you find in my 
father, in all the portraits of our family. . . But 
it is not a crime to resemble your ancestors % ” 

“ No ; but this significant bearing which belongs 
to you, I cannot explain just how, and your 
idea of your functions of love and of life, can 
never be mine, and we are so different that I 
astonish and scandalize you in everything that I 
do. And so it is that this bearing has, little by 
little, discouraged and frozen my tenderness.” 

“That is j>ossible,” murmured the Princess 
in a low voice, very sweet and almost submis- 


38 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT \ 

sive. “I will not recriminate. * * This is 
not the time for it. . . But, because I could 
not love you as a bourgeoise would, you thought 
that I did not love you at all. . . And, yet, 
I could have said a great deal on that subject.” 
Her words fell from her lips like an involun- 
tary confession, and her head was turned in a 
way that seemed to offer her beautiful shoulders 
and the soft curves of her fair throat ; she 
strove to catch her husband’s eve. 

But he was not looking at her. 

She rose rapidly and her pride returned ; she 
continued in a dull voice : 

“ What is ended is ended. . . You drew 
away from me, thinking it was I who was retir- 
ing. I have resigned myself to the inevi- 
table. . . I have already given you the credit 
to admit that our misunderstanding has re- 
mained a secret between us two, and that if 
you have let me go from you it is because of ani 
idea, of a dream, and that the place which I 
have lost in your heart no other woman has 
taken from me.” 

He seemed to feel, in this affectation of con- 
fidence, a hidden allusion, an expression born of 
a suspicion. She surprised the frowning brows, 
and instantly the suspicion was confirmed. 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. SO 

“ But what have I said to you? Once more, I 
simply came to offer you the homage of the first 
among your subjects, of the most devoted and 
the most faithful. I only add: have a care, 
King, son of a King, what you are about to do. 
And that my warning may be more lasting, I 
told them to bring our son.” 

She had retaken her grand air, the impertur- 
bable air of majesty belonging to the Alten- 
bourgs. And this was why, though she herself 
went to open the door, her face wore an ironical 
and exaggerated smile. 

The governess, Mine. Schliefen, an old lady of 
dignified bearing, was leading a puny child, with 
pretty features, but whose head was unnatur- 
ally large and whose eyes had a dull look in 
them. 

An expression of great sadness passed over 
Hermann’s face. He loved his little son very 
dearly, but it made him sad to see him. The 
idea of the mysterious injustice of which this 
little one was the victim, this irony of destiny, 
which had given as the last representative of a 
powerful race of kings this poor little dwarf, 
filled Hermann with such a bitterness of revolt 
and protestation that the sentiment overpowered 
him ; and, if it did not exclude his paternal 




40 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

love, often took away the possibility of express- 
ing this tenderness. 

He had thought it best to abandon the care of 
raising this sick child to the mother, and already 
at five years of age, he, this poor frail abortion 
of royalty, had learned the lessons of pretended 
pride, professional dignity, and imbecile eti- 
quette. 

And he thought of the day when the child 
would be grown — supposing he could be kept 
alive — and he would find him false of heart, his 
head filled with vain foolishness, and that there 
would then be no time in which to repair all this ; 
and besides, the proud mother and the cringing 
governess were doubtless in a fair way to take 
his son’s heart from him forever. 

“Come, Wilhelm,” said the Princess. 

She took the child by the hand and led him to 
the Prince. 

“Embrace your father. Since a little while 
ago — listen well to this — since a little while ago, 
it is not only your grandfather, it is also your 
father, who is King.” 

“Do not speak of such things to him,” cried 
Hermann quickly. “ What do you wish him to 
understand by all this ? ” 

Wilhelm, intimidated, let his large head fall. 



41 


PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 

Hermann, lifting his little face toward him, 
kissed him on the forehead, scanned his features 
for a moment, and addressing himself to the 
governess : 

“ How pale he is ? Has he slept well ? ” 

“ Yes, your Highness,” said the old lady. 

4 ‘ Has he eaten well ? ’ ’ 

u Yes, your Highness, and he had a long play 
after his breakfast.” 

“ With whom?” 

“ Why, all alone, your Highness.” 

“ There is the Head Huntsman's little boy, and 
the Equerry’s also, who are about his age, and I 
have said ” 

“ Yes, your Highness ; but these children take 
such liberties with his Royal Highness.” 

“ Do they beat him ? ” 

u Yes, your Highness.” 

u Well, he is able to defend himself.” 

The Princess intervened. 

“ You are not speaking seriously, Hermann? ” 
u Poor little one!” continued the Prince. 
“ What thou needst is the pure air, a free and 
natural life, a battle with other youngsters, and 
as little care as possible. That is all ! . . . Thy 
comrades either treat thee already as a little King, 
and that is horrible ; or else they are wanting in 


42 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT \ 

respect, and then they are recalled to a feeling 
of proper respect. But,” he continued, as he 
tapped the child’s arms, which were as frail as a 
little bird’s bones, “perhaps they are right, for 
thou art in no condition to defend thyself. Go 
then, poor little one, go play by thyself ! ” 

The Prince uttered these words in so sad and 
bitter a tone that the frightened child burst into 
tears. 

“Wliat is the matter with him? He thinks 
that I scolded him ? I am stupid ! ” 

Hermann took the child on his knees, pressed 
him to his heart, resting his chin against the 
tear-stained cheek. 

“Wilhelm, my darling, what is the matter 
with thee ? I am not scolding thee ... on the 
contrary ... I am thy papa, who loves thee 
much . . . Wouldst tliou wish me to give thee 
a pretty plaything? Dost thou wish that I 
should tell thee a fairy tale?” 

The child made a sign of dissent. Playing 
tired him. His favorite game was to lie for 
whole hours in his little armchair, as motionless 
as a picture. And as to fairy stories, his heart 
was already too old to wish to hear them. He 
cried no more, but shaken by his sobs he flung 
his arms around Hermann’s neck. 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 


43 




Then Wilhelmine, true to lier predominating 
thought, said : 

“ Since you love him, Hermann, think of him, 
and guard his inheritance for him.” 

The importunate Warner, who would not even 
let him be a father ! He replied : 

“But his inheritance is not compromised that 

I know of. And besides ” 

At that moment a great, joyous cry came up 
from the street below, from out of which could 
be heard, now and then : 

“ Vive le Prince Hermann ! ” 

“ You hear that? Those are the people who 
have just heard my proclamation read.” 

“ You have promised them everything ; that is 
easy. But what will you give them to-morrow % 5 5 
Without replying, Hermann opened the win- 
dow. The noise rose clearer and more distinctly. 
It became greater when Hermann had stepped on 
the balcony. He suddenly turned very pale, as 
though this human crowd had given him a ver- 
tigo. He could only say : 

“ Thanks, my friends, thanks ! ” 

Instinctively, for in spite of herself these 
acclamations excited her, Wilhelmine took a few 
steps forward, as though to join her husband. 
She stopped suddenly, reflecting that this ovation 




\ 


44 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

was given to ideas which she disapproved of with 
all her strength, and, loyal as she was, she did 
not wish to claim for herself, even by surprise, 
a part of the popular gratitude. 

But her eyes rested for a moment on little 
Wilhelm, who was laughing curiously, enchanted 
with this great, triumphant outcry : 

“ Hermann,” she cried, “show them our son ! ” 
“ Oh, yes, father ! ” said the child. 

His immense head was held up proudly, ready 
to receive their homage, and had suddenly become 
as grave as an idol’s. 

Hermann shrugged his shoulders. 

“Show him to them? What for? Wo, ma- 
dame ; such things are not good for children.” 

He closed the window slowly. . . When he 
turned around he saw little Wilhelm crying with 
rage, and, near him, his governess on her knees, 
lavishing respectful consolations upon him. 

“My lord! my lord! a prince should never 
weep ! ” said the old lady. “ Your Royal High- 
ness gives me great sorrow ! ” 

“ Take him away,” said the father quietly . 



“You are acquainted with the terms of my 
proclamation to the people. Sir Lord High Chan- 
cellor, as you countersigned it?” 


“ May I be permitted to recall the fact to your 
Royal Highness that my counter-signature was 
there merely to authenticate your signature, and 
that it cannot possibly carry any other signifi- 
cation?” 

“I know that, my lord, and it was precisely 
my own thought, and only my own thought, that 

| 

I wished to make known to the people. I owe 
j you an honest explanation of my intentions 
: also. These strikes, which for several months 

I liave made so much misery in this unhappy 
country, seem to me to be ended more by 
the inability of the workmen to continue the 
struggle, than by the concessions made by the 
masters, which have been very inadequate. ” 
Count de Moellnitz protested by a faint smile 
and an ironical motion of the chin. 

“This is, nevertheless, my idea,” continued 



The Count de Moellnitz bowed 



45 




46 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

Hermann. 6 4 As soon as the news gained credence 
that the King had delegated his rights to me, a 
great calm was felt. The people were waiting. 
By my past conduct, by all the sentiments which 
I have allowed them to guess at, I have entered 
into a tacit engagement with them. I will hold 
to it. The idea has spread among the workers 
that the solution of these social questions 
depended upon a preliminary reform in politics. 
This view of the case was not a false one. I 
intend to submit to the consulting assembly two 
connecting projects, of which you already know 
the drift ; a project of electoral law and one of a 
law instituting, for a beginning, the minimum 
of representative regime . These are my two 
plans.” 

The Prince moved the papers on his desk. 
Count de Moellnitz had listened, without flinch- 
ing, to the end of the discourse. His slight smile 
continued to explain the intellectual severity of 
a man who has never thought deeply. Evidently 
the ideas enclosed in his little, hard, round fore- 
head were poor and not very numerous, but 
ranged in good order, tenacious, and much more 
immutable for the reason that he had never 
hunted them up himself, and that they were 
uniquely the ideas of his birth, his raipk ? his 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


47 


future, and his career. He was one of those who 
are incapable of conceiving or picturing a soul 
differing from theirs, nor another kind of life 
than theirs ; nor the possibility, even, of an- 
other social condition than that by which they 

had profited, and which they had found, by the 

/ 

chance of birth, exactly adapted to their personal 
interests. Even when they have the appearance 
of thinking and acting, they are but making the 
gestures of action and thought ; but they make 
these gestures imperturbably, and they never 
make but one kind of gesture. And, thus, their 
moral automatism becomes an enormous and 
indestructible force. Fanatics, but fanatics from 
a tradition which can have its greatness and its 
reason for existing. And this is why these men 
come to be looked upon as politicians, orators, 
and honest men. The authority of the Count de 
Moellnitz, and his recognized honesty, came to 
him from his persistence in his original au- 
tomatism. He was finished and delicate in 
his gestures of grand seigneur , diplomat, and 
minister of an absolute monarchy. His head 
was like that of an old bird, but a heraldic 
one. 

Thus, with an incomparable air, lie had replied : 

“My lord, I have the honor to offer to your 



\ 


48 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 

Royal Highness my resignation and that of my 
colleagues. 7 ’ 

“ I accept it, M. de Moellnitz,” said Hermann ; 
“ I will choose a new ministry to-morrow.” 

The Count thought it his duty to add a phrase, 
“ courage” of an old loyal servant, in which he 
also united “ V accent cVune noble franchise ! ” 
“I beg your Royal Highness will not doubt my 
devotion. But I am persuaded in my soul and 
conscience that your policy will ruin us, and that 
it will ruin itself.” 

“ We will see,” said Hermann. 

“At least, Sire, your Royal Highness will 
remember that one day I dared to warn you ! If 
my conscience will not permit me to assist in 
your destruction (excuse the audacity of these 
words, which are alone inspired by my love for 
the public good), be sure that my devotion re- 
mains at your Royal Highness’ service, when you 
feel the necessity of calling upon it.” 

“I do not doubt it,” said Hermann, smiling. 
“ I know that you are of those who can always 
be found again.” 










1 ' i 
111 



That evening a ball was given on the occasion 
of the delegation of power to the heir apparent. 
Hermann remained in the salon reserved to the 
princes and their aids-de-camp, to the princesses 
and their ladies of honor, to the ministers and 
the diplomatic corps. 

By three wide open doorways connecting the 
ocher salons, the crudity of the electric lights 
softened by the warm tints of the decorations, 
the whirling of the fete could be seen passing by: 
a mingling of stiff and somber uniforms cutting 
in among the white, rose, and mauve dresses of 
the ladies ; mustaches sweeping bare necks and 
shoulders ; the swishing of trains around the 
officers’ scabbards, and the rapid twinkle of stars, 
now from the ladies’ diadems, now from the 
officers’ medals. 

Hermann said to himself that among the invited 
guests there was hardly a person in whom he did 
not inspire a secret or acknowledged mistrust, 
and who would not be his enemy as soon as his 
plans were known. 


40 






i 



50 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

‘ 4 If they only knew in honor of what they are 
dancing,” he thought. 

He had moved away from the circle of diplo- 
mats and court officers. He drew near a little 
woman, still young and quite pretty, but whose 
face bore marks of suffering and who was sitting 
alone in a corner. 

She was the Princess Gertrude, Prince Otto’s 
wife. 

She had just gotten rid of her maids of honor, 
by allowing them to dance all the time (“ for I am 
not very entertaining, my poor little ones ”), and 
she was watching the fete with a leaden eye and 
an absent air. 

But as she extended her hand to Hermann her 
face broke out into a smile which was almost 
cheerful. 

“ Thank you for what you have again done for 
me,” she said. 

She was always without a cent. Otto took 
everything from her, and she even was often 
without the necessary money to pay her servants, 
or to meet the daily expenses of her household. 
When her distress became too great she had 
recourse to Hermann, who advanced her money 
from liis own allowance. 

“At least,” Hermann said charitably, “is he 
not a little more reasonable \ ” 


PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 51 

' 

“Oh ! yes, yes,” she replied quickly, “I have 
nothing to complain of since this last affair.” 

“This affair” was the sudden revelation of the 
condition of one of Princess Gertrude’s maids of 
honor. The young girl had been seized with a 
sudden illness, and, after a long fainting spell, 
had confessed to her mistress, amid despairing 
sobs, that her trouble was due to Prince Otto. 

The affair had been hushed as quickly as 
possible, the young girl sent back to her family, 
the father appointed to a lucrative position, he 
. being a nobleman, poor, but of good blood. 

Gertrude had pardoned Otto. She loved her 
husband. 

“He is not wicked, I assure you. He is but 
weak and easily led. And he is charming when 
he wishes to be. . . He has acknowledged his 
faults, and since this sad affair he has been 
better to me than for a long time.” 

“You are not well, my poor friend,” he 
murmured. 

“No, not very. . . Truly I have no chance. 
You know, for I hide nothing from you, that 
Otto had abandoned me entirely. . . And almost 
immediately after his return, when he had shown 
himself so tender and so good, I must be taken 
sick.” 


52 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

Hermann thought: 

“ Poor innocent one ! He has returned to you 
because he had need of money, and, having 
mortally offended you, he doubtless had no 
other way of getting it from you. And he was 
more infamous still in coming back to you, than 
he had been in leaving you. And your illness 
is the same from which your maid of honor is 
dying. . . and yet you do not know all. . . I, no 
more than the rest. Only the secret police, the 
usurers, and the brokers of this good city know 
my good brother in his entirety.” 

He suddenly left Princess Gertrude’s side. 
At the other end of the room he had seen Otto 
and Frida de Thalberg conversing together. Their 
conversation seemed to be an animated one ; he, 
with a sneer on his face, was leaning over her ; 
she, with a frown on her brow, was blushing 
slightly. 

Otto had joined her just as she was going out 
of one of the doors opening on the terrace. 

“ Permit me to accompany you, mademoiselle.” 

She had stopped in surprise. And he, still 
with his sneer, had said : 

“ You are not going out, then ; you are afraid 
of me ?” 

He was swaying about on his long limbs, hunt- 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 53 

in g for a subject of conversation ; lie bethought 
himself of the incident of the afternoon. 

“Well, you have been in penitence. She is 
not very sweet-tempered, hein, the Princess Wil- 
helmine ? ” 

“ I was in the wrong, my lord.” 

“Admit, now, that you are not very well 
acquainted with the rules of etiquette.” 

“No ; but then I am not perfect. Remember 
that I was brought up like a little savage.” 

“But I find you very nice just as you 
are.” 

Evidently he thought her very nice. Standing 
a little behind her, his tall form dominating hers, 
his respiration short and quick, his heavy eyes, 
under their half-closed lids, shot forth flames ; 
and his head, that of a high liver and man of 
prey, stretched by a brutal desire, seemed to 
elongate into a muzzle. 

“ I am always very much pleased, as you know, 
to meet you. I have already said that we will 
get along admirably, and that we will soon be 
very good friends.”. 

“But I did not think we were enemies, my 
lord.” 

“ Do not pretend you do not understand me.” 

“ What is there to understand ? ” 


54 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

The glacial purity of two eyes, black as sloes, 
interrogated Prince Otto’s face. 

He replied after a moment’s silence : 

“ What were you saying a little while ago to 
my cousin Renaud.” 

“I was asking him the news from Paris, my 
lord.” 

“All! Paris, Paris!” murmured the Prince, 
in a penetrating voice (and God alone knows 
what images this word raised in liis memory) ; 
“I am going there next month.” 

And he whispered in Frida’s ear : 

“ Will you come ? ” 

“ Where?” 

“ To Paris.” 

“I would ask nothing better,” said Frida, 
affecting to laugh. 

“ And if I take you at your word? Do not 
make that face . . . there is nothing extraor- 
dinary in what I propose to you. I know 
you better than you think for, Mile, de Tlial- 
berg. You are too independent, too intelligent, 

. . . in fact, a little revolutionary. You know 
how much the greater part of the conventions 
which rule women’s conduct is worth. I do not 
think that you find any great charm in the duties 
of maid of honor to the Princess Royal, nor that 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 


55 


you have any idea of passing your life in this 
position. On the other hand, you are of a good 
family, but without any fortune, and all that you 
can hope for is to be wed by some old nobleman, 
whose sick-nurse you will be. This is a melan- 
choly destiny to look forward to. Under these con- 
ditions, what harm do you see in enjoying a lib- 
erty of which a prejudiced person will forbid you 
the pleasure, and in accompanying, as good com- 
panion, a man who is absolutely devoted to you ?” 

Unconsciously, he had pushed Frida before 
him, into a corner of the salon. The young girl 
seated herself, and, playing with her fan, said in 
the most indifferent tone of voice : 

“Tell me, my lord, if my great uncle the Mar- 
quis de Franenlaub were not nearly eighty-five 
years old ; if I were not alone in the world and 
without other natural protector than the King, 
whose aid you know very well I should never 
seek, would you have dared to speak to me as 
you have just done ? ” . 

“ Idle words,” said Otto ; “I thought you had 
more intelligence.” 

“ It is you who reason falsely, my lord. Sup- 
pose that I possessed the revolutionary soul with 
which you would endow me, what sentiments do 
you think a prince of your character would 
inspire me with, and one who lives as you live ?” 



56 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

She threw out and articulated her words tran- 
quilly, and without moving a muscle of her face. 
He commenced to sneer again. 

“ You are very pretty when you are angry. ” 

“ I have never given you any right to speak to 
me in this tone, my lord.” 

“I speak to you as hail-fellow-well-met. If 
you want to take it as an insult, pretend that I 
have said nothing to you. What I propose to you 
only becomes an insult when it is badly received ; 
otherwise it is a homage. Besides, I could not 
know how you would receive it. Let us talk 
no more about it. I do not wish you . . . 
They told me that I would arrive too late ; and I 
know full well all I owe to an older brother. . 

Frida rose quickly, trembling with indigna- 
tion : 

“ You have insulted me in a cowardly manner, 
my lord ! ” 

“That is one word too much, Mile, de Thal- 
berg,” said Prince Otto, bowing to her with an 
ugly smile upon his face. 

When he straightened up his brother stood 
before him. 

“ Do I disturb you ? ” questioned Hermann. 

“ Not at all ! And hold ! I give her back to 
you,” said Otto, designating with a glance Frida, 


I 







PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


57 













who was going out by a door leading to the 
terrace. 

Princess Wilhelmine, seated in a circle of court 
ladies, wives of ministers and chamberlains, had 
followed from afar Otto and Frida de Thalberg’s 
conversation. She had seen that Hermann was 
watching them from his side of the room with 
but badly concealed impatience ; and when he 
had interrupted them, a shadow passed over the 
calm countenance of the Princess Royal. 




The immense terrace, set out with orange 
trees, amid whose branches shone the soft light 
of hundreds of yellow lanterns, overlooked that 
part of the royal garden which extended down 
to the river. In the center, a large fountain 
glittered in the moon’s rays, and on each side 
the round tops of the century plants were 
plainly seen under the bluish rays of the moon. 
The lower branches of the chestnut trees swept 
the marble balustrade. 

It was here that Frida had fled for refuge. 
Leaning on the balustrade she breathed in the 
sweet freshness of the night. Prince Hermann 
leaned on his elbow beside her. 

Other couples wandered on the terrace, seen 
here and there under the soft light of the Vene- 
tian lanterns, meandering among the old orange 
trees, so close together and so high that they 
formed groves and alleys. 

Hermann was silent for some minutes, as 
though he feared, in speaking, to break a charm. 
At last he said to his friend : 




PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 


59 


“ Well, Frida, are you contented ?” 

“Yes, I am liappy, very liappy. You are 
now in a position to do so much good. How 
the people will adore you ! And how proud I 
am to belong to you ! ” 

She looked at him, his head was supported on 
his hands with an air of weariness. 

“ But, my lord, they will say you are sad. 
What ails you?” 

“ What is the matter, Frida? The matter is, 
that T have commenced to be a king, and that is 
terrible. . . Ah, Frida, if you knew ! I am 
sure, however, that what I wish to do is just. 
I have even commenced my task at once, and I 
have already given my confidence to Moellnitz. 
But I am not any more tranquil, and I already 
feel the agony of my responsibility. Oh, not to 
be obliged to discover and invent one’s duty! 
To be but one head in the crowd ; to have but 
one countersign, clear and straight, like the 
lodge of our little home at Orsova. But think 
of it. If I am mistaken ! You must love me 
more than ever, Frida.” 

“More than ever! How can I do it ? I 
belong to you entirely, because I owe every- 
thing to you. Do you remember our first meet- 
ing in Paris, at the Countess de Winden’s, who 




had entertained poor mamma and me ; a little 
against my will, it is true? You had come to 
visit the Count’s picture gallery. I rushed in 
heedlessly, thinking that there was no one in the 
gallery, and I was very much frightened at see- 
ing you. You said : 4 Who is this little one?’ ” 

u Are you sure, Frida, that I expressed myself 
so irreverently ?” 

44 Yes, yes, I heard what you said. You said: 
4 Who is this little one ? ’ I was reassured, 
nevertheless, you looked so good. The Count 
replied: 6 She is one of my countrywomen.’ 

m 

Then you questioned me and I told you the story 
of my life. It was a long story, although I am 
not very old yet ; and it was a little strange, too. 
You said from time to time : 4 Poor little one ! ’ 
You comforted me, you reconciled me to my 
great uncle, and you caused me to be appointed 
to the court, near you . . . near you, where I 
am so happy, so happy ! ” 

44 And you, Frida, do you remember the even- 
ing upon which I iirst told you I loved you ? 
There was a fete at the palace, as there is this 
evening, and it was like to-night, a masquerade 
of bald-headed men and painted women ; the lie 
on all their faces, a lie of devotion or a lie of 
pleasure ; and I had just finished my role of 





prince, speaking for hours words which were all 
lies. . . I came out here, alone, to breath the 
virginal air of the night, I saw a white form 
leaning against the balustrade, it was you. And 
to find you again here, to meet your limpid eyes 
and your true heart, free from all the artifice of 



a royal fete , was to me an inexpressible pleasure. 
It was as though beneficent nature had taken 
pity upon me and given you to me.” 

“ I remember, I remember. . . A nightingale 
was singing just beside us . . . just there in 
that tree. The night wind wafted the odor of 
roses to us, and seemed the breath of the earth, 
and though the fete went on behind the closed 
windows, it seemed as though we were all alone, 
you and I, under the vast sky.” 

“From that time forth I lived a new life ; I 
carried my burden more lightly ; I had you ! In 
the midst of this foolish and hard world, subject 
to absurd ceremonials, you were my source of 
happiness and truth. And though I had studied 
a great deal, and traveled much formerly, I 
recognized the fact that I knew nothing, for you 
taught me everything.” 

“ I am very ignorant, however, my dear lord !” 

“ Do not say that, my dear friend. Yes, doubt- 
less you were but a little girl ; but you had seen 






* 


62 PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 

the world better and nearer than I had, and with 
more ingenuous eyes. You had known misery, 
and those who suffer. Your life of wandering 
and poverty had permitted you to come in close 
contact with all the social conditions, and upon 
all things you pronounced the true judgment of 
a true heart. Simply in telling me your story, 
you revealed human nature, as it really was. It 
was you who, without knowing it, suggested 
the experiments which I made to become better 
acquainted with human nature. . . You taught 
me pity ; or at least, you caused it to go from 
my head into my heart. How can I repay 
you ? ” 

His sleeve brushed against the young girl’s 
arm. Slowly she drew it away from him. 

44 Frida ! ” he said sadly. 

Silently she drew nearer to him, and both of 
them, moved to the innermost depths of their 
being by this light contact, so slight as to be 
hardly perceptible, gazed chastely at the stars. 

Suddenly Frida turned toward him, with a 
decided movement, as if to shake the sweet 
dream from her. 

64 Then, my lord, if I ask a favor of you, I 
have a chance of being heard ? ” 

44 Speak, my friend.” 


PRINCE HERMANN, \ REGENT. 63 

“My lord, I ask pardon for Andotia Latanief.” 
“ Andotia’s pardon? Do you know wliat she 
lias done ? ’ 

“Yes, during the last strike she paraded the 
streets with a black flag. Then, there followed 
some rioting, and the black flag was reddened 
with Andotia’s blood. She has been in prison 
for three months, for having pity on those who 
were suffering.” 

“ Then she should have had pity on the poor 
soldiers, and the unhappy galley-sergeants, who 
have suffered themselves, perhaps.” 

Frida’s light, musical voice became strangely 
vibrating : 

“ Andotia has pity for the whole world. Only 
she thinks that the reign of justice will not be 
established without some violence. Or, perhaps, 
she does not reflect, she goes where her heart 
urges her to. She maybe a madwoman, as some 
call her, but she has a great heart.” 

“ You know her, then ? ” 

“ I knew her in Paris, during my poverty.” 

“ You never told me that before, Frida.” 

“ I was waiting until you became all-powerful. 
The King would never have listened to your 
prayer for pardon for Andotia Latanieff,” 

“And you think that I »” 


64 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


“ Yes, my lord ; I think, I am sure, that you 
will extend mercy to her. She was good to me ; it 
was she who taught me to reverence my grand- 
father’s memory ; he died in Siberia. . . I 
know that Andotia is a saint. This woman, who 
only dreams of social upturnings, is sweetness 
and charity itself. I can see her now under her 
black robes, and I can hear her uttering maledic- 
tions on the old world and foretelling its destruc- 
tion, and all this in a quiet, gentle voice, like that 
of a nun. She has nothing herself, and yet she 
is a mother to the poor, a sister to the sick. My 
lord, I swear to you that Andotia is good — good 
as you are good ; and notwithstanding that the 
world of appearances has placed an abyss between 
you two, I swear to you that, in reality, you 
think the same, you and she.” 

Hermann hesitated. 

“That Andotia Latanieff is all you say, in the 
eyes of God, I doubt not ; and you well know, 
Frida, that I will do her justice . . . but it is 
by her acts that I must judge her, not by her 
heart . . . and I have very positive duties.” 
“You were complaining but a little while ago 
that you were obliged to discover your duty ; is it 
not very plain before you, my very dear lord ?” 
“ But just think, Frida ; I cannot pardon your 


PRINCE HERMANN \ URGENT . 


05 


friend without extending the same favor to all 
those who were condemned in the last riot, and 
if there are among these people dreamers and 
dupes, there are also some very wicked ones .’ 5 

“ How can we know? Perhaps all these 
unhappy ones whom you will set free will 
be grateful to you, and then they will await 
from your kindness that which they would have 
attempted to seize by force. This is what the 
people hope for, and what they are unable to 
accomplish all alone, for they are not wise enough 
nor intelligent enough for that. It may remain 
for a sovereign to accomplish this work. Re- 
member that this has never been attempted in 
entirely good faith ; the sovereigns who have 

undertaken reforms have always had an after- 

_ % 

thought, have fixed the limits beyond which they 
would not go. Would it not be original, my 
dear lord, to do what no other prince, up to the 
present time, has done, and to go to the end in 
your charity ? ” 

“ And to ruin myself?” said Herman, with a 
smile. 

“Ah, no! not all at once,” replied Frida 
ingenuously. . . and became thoughtful, as 
though carried away by an internal vision. 

“ After. . . Ah ! I do not know.” 


06 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 

“ It is, then, a matter of perfect indifference to 
you, Frida, whether I am a prince or not?” 

“ No, my friend ; I am very happy, on the 
contrary, to think that you are powerful, and 
that you occupy upon earth a place which men 
envy and honor the most. But at the same time, 
must I say it ? One thing makes me uneasy, 
and that is that you are going to think that 
I love you because you are a prince, or that, 
unknown to myself, that is the reason I do love 
you ! ” 

A true and naive agony made her voice 
tremble. Hermann pressed her closer to him. 
She made no resistance. She continued in a low 
murmur : 

“ But no, I feel that if I love you it is because, 
apart from being a prince [her voice had an 
inflection of innocent malice in it as she pro- 
nounced that word], you are the best, the most 
generous, the sweetest of men, and it seems to 
me that my adoration of you has the approba- 
tion of all the unhappy ones.” 

“Ah! little friend,” sighed Hermann, “if I 
could be with thee, see thee and hear thee 
always, always!” 

But just at that moment some of the shadowy 
forms meandering under the orange trees passed 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


67 


by very close to tliem. Hermann perceived that 
their tete-a-tete had lasted quite long enough. 

“ Listen/’ he said rapidly, “you are supposed 
to have asked me for a holiday of three months 
to go to visit your great-uncle. I will be very 
much occupied all that time here ; but never 
mind, I well know how, under the pretext of a 
walk or a hunt, to go and find thee oftentimes 
in our little hermitage at Orsova. You will 

receive the warning agreed upon between us 

* 

each time. You will set out to-morro w. Is that 
understood ? ” 

“Perfectly . . . andAndotia?” 

“I will pardon those condemned in the last 
riot. That will be one of my gifts toward the 
joyous future.” 

“Thank you, my lord. From the bottom of 
my heart, thank you.” 

She took Hermann’s hands and kissed them 
passionately. 

“ What effusion, Mile, de Thalberg ! ” 

For some little time the Princess Williel mine had 
been secretly uneasy about the disappearance of 
her husband, and, under pretext of going to. 
breathe a cooler air than that of the overheated 
ballrooms, she had wandered out on the terrace, 
and having discovered the one she was searching 


68 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

for, had advanced toward him in her immovable 
serenity. 

“ Mile, de Thalberg,” said Hermann, “ seems 
to think she onglit to thank me. She had 
begged me to intercede with you in behalf of the 
offense she gave you a little while ago. I had 
just promised to do so.” 

“ It would have been sufficient for her to have 
excused herself,” Wilhelmine said briefly. 

“She also begged of me to ask you to grant 
her a holiday of three months in which to visit 
her great-uncle, the Marquis de Franenlaub.” 
The suspicion which had begun to torment 
her being allayed by this request, the Princess 
asked in a more friendly tone of voice : 

“Was it necessary for her to ask you to do 
that also? ” 

Hermann’s tone was one of indifference : 

“ She is, as you know, timid and a little of a 
savage. Right or wrong I inspire her with less 
fear than you do, for she has known me for so 
long, and she has gotten into the habit of coming 
to me in her troubles. Do not worry, though ; I 
have scolded her well for her breach of etiquette. 
Now, madame, as I am certain of her good heart, 
and as I know she is repentant, I ask you to 
pardon her and to grant her request.” 



“I see no reason, none at all, why Mile, de 
Thalberg should not be absent for three months,” 
said the Princess, a little spiteful irony in her 
voice. 

“I thank your Royal Highness,” said Frida 
with a deep reverence. 

When she was out of hearing, the Prince said : 
“ You are very severe on the little girl.” 

“ And you very indulgent ! ” 

Hermann smiled. He had just been playing 
a role, and precisely because dissimulation was 
so little in his nature, he felt the unlucky need 
of uselessly prolonging the comedy. 

“ Would you be jealous ? he asked her. 
u Do not jest, Hermann. I know well that it 
is sufficient for Frida to be the granddaughter 
of a revolutionary and the daughter of a fool, 
to find favor in your eyes. And if her pranks of 
a badly brought up child amuse you, I will not 
get angry, for I know you so well. But others do 

not know you as I do. Your long disappearance 

% 

this evening has given rise to ugly gossip, and I 
would have been much happier, I confess, if the 
new King seemed to care more for the first fete 
of his reign.” 

Oh ! the air with which this was said ! The 




10 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

air of des Altenbourgs again and always ! Her- 
mann was furious with himself for having lied so 
short a while ago, more furious against the one 
who had made him lie, and who had allowed 
herself afterward to treat his little friend as 
44 a badly brought up child” ; and all this with- 
out his being able to protest against this ridicu- 
lous appreciation. He replied harshly : 

“I do not think, madame, that it seems worth 
while to take up the subject of our last explana- 
tion so soon again. I wish to be the sole judge, 
the only one, understand, of my royal duty and 
the conventionalities of my position.” 

44 O Hermann!” cried the Princess sorrow- 
fully, clasping her hands together ; hands as 
narrow as those of the reine de vitrail and as 
long as the hands of justice. 

She thought, the old suspicion coming back to 
her: “This little girl has a very deep place in 
your heart.” And perhaps she w r as on the point 
of expressing her thoughts aloud, when there 
was felt rather than heard, a murmur of curi- 
osity which came from the grand salons, and 
stealing forth into the stillness of the night, 
reached them like an echo. At that moment an 
officer approached Hermann and handed him a 
dispatch, marked 44 very important and hurried.” 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 7i 

Hermann re-entered the salon of the Princes, 
his entrance followed by a hush of expectancy, 
and opened his dispatch. 

Dancing had ceased. The orchestra even was 
silent. The circle of high functionaries and am- 
bassadors pressed closely around Hermann, and 
by the open doors of the other salons could be 
seen the heads of charming women pressing 
forward anxiously. 

“ Gentlemen,” said Hermann, “ the Revolution 
in England is an accomplished fact ; the new 
House of Commons has proclaimed The United 
States of Great Britain. Lord Schefield lias been 
elected Protector.” 

The news was not altogether unexpected. 
Failures in Asia, a commercial crisis in the 
interior, an uprising in Ireland, and King 
George’s cynical carelessness amid all these dis- 
asters, had weaned the English people from their 
traditional royalism, in succeeding in demon- 
strating to them the inutility of the monarchial 
fiction. In the midst of this disorder King 
George had been assassinated by an Irish fanatic. 
His heir was little Duke Edward, a youth already 
steeped in all manner of vice. The elections had 
been made on the constitutional question. The 
question had been considerably embroiled by the 


*72 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT, 

polemics of the press ; and even the day before, 
the sentiments of the majority of the assembly 
could not be foreseen with any certainty. 

“ Revolution! The Republic!” There was 
hardly a person in the fete whom these words 
did not fill with horror. The Republic, Revolu- 
tion ! That meant street battles, shells fiying, 
massacres, the streets dyed with blood, disorder, 
anarchy ; what a pity ! Exclamations arose on 
all sides from this elegant and decorated crowd : 
“The miserable ones! Poor Prince! Poor 
country ! ’ ’ 

Hermann replied : 

“Reassure yourselves, gentlemen; not one 
drop of blood was shed. Public opinion sanc- 
tioned the vote of the House of Commons. Duke 
Edward ran no danger. They courteously invited 
him to set sail for the Continent. His civil list 
remains to him.” 

First they were stupefied, then their anger 
burst forth. This revolution had not even been 
bloody ! This lack of violence was worse than 
all. To what was the world coming, if revolu- 
tions should become legalized? Why had not 
this little Duke resisted ? Why had he not made 
it obligatory for someone to let himself be killed 
for him ? They accused him of cowardice. The 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. *73 

military men murmured, “ Wait ! 55 dreaming of 
future disasters for this scandalous country, 
where things had the effrontery to happen so 
peacefully. 

“ This is very curious, is it not?” said Her- 
mann in a low tone, turning toward the ambass- 
ador from the French Republic. “England has 
just invented, or nearly so, a new species of rev- 
olution ; that in which the people will be polite 
and the princes resigned. A revolution will 
hereafter be a struggle of courtesies between the 
conquerors and the conquered. Doffing of hats 
will replace gunshots. This is an excellent 
augury.” 

He tried to laugh, but he was a little nervous 
nevertheless. 

The dances were not commenced again. The 
ftte was at an end. 


On reaching the railway station of Marbourg, 
from which place she was to take the train for 
Birsen (the Marquis de Franenlaub lived in the 
neighborhood of this city), Frida had mingled for 
a moment with the crowd in the great waiting 
room, and then descending again into the court- 
yard had exchanged a sign with an old coachman 
with a huge gray mustache, and getting into his 
carriage was driven away. 

Night was coming on. When the carriage had 
threaded its way through the smoky atmosphere 
of factory chimneys and mist-covered soil, they 
came upon a great plain studded with groups of 
trees and the air soft and sweet from the mildness 
of the evening. 

And Frida sank into a melancholy reverie. 
The great plain brought back to her the memory 
of other plains, far away, down in Courlande, 
where she had spent her childhood. Her 
mother, the Countess de Thalberg, passed 
her days in a reclining chair reading French 
novels. Her father was nearly always in St. 


ii 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 75 





Petersburg. Frida had since learned that he was 
leading a dissolute life, playing the game of a 
fool, and it was for this reason that the immense 
domain diminished so perceptibly, and that every 
year some farms were sold off. 

Frida, abandoned to the care of the servants, 
lived outdoors in the fields among the “mou- 
jicks.” They were her friends, they adored her, 
because of her frail madonna-like beauty and 
her goodness. A little beggar child, an orphan, 
Annouchka, two or three years older than she, 
had conceived an absorbing passion for Frida ; her 
love was dog-like in its submissiveness. Thin, 
covered with freckles, two eyes peering out from 
amid a mass of tangled hair, barefooted, her little 
heels livid in their pallor, Annouchka’ s sole 
redeeming point was a large mouth filled with 
little short white teeth which she showed con- 
tinually. Ah ! what rare good times Frida had 
had with this little vagabond. When it rained 
the two little girls used to play in the barns. 
There in one of them they found a pile of old 
books thrown into a corner. Among them was 
the “ Lives of the Saints,” an old volume of de 
Gogol’s, a little old book with red lines, which 
contained articles translated from the French 
in the eighteenth century. The most beautiful 




76 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 

of these stories commenced thus: “At the 

time when Mine, de Pompadour reigned over 
France. . .” Frida read aloud, while at her 
feet, rolled into a ball, lay Annouclika, listening 
in rhapsody. . . 

Then Frida became ill, a severe attack of small- 
pox, accompanied by fever and delirium . . . 
and the only vision which remained to her of this 
severe illness was Annouclika at her bedside feed- 
ing her tisanes, Annouclika sleeping on the lioor, 
Annouclika astride the little narrow bed, holding 
the hands of her friend softly and yet with all her 
strength, trying to prevent her from scratching 
her face. They had told Annouclika that if the 
sick child scratched herself she would become 
ugly, and the little savage watched over the 
beauty of her mistress as a gnome over a treasure. 

The day Frida commenced to get better (it was 
in May, and the sun’s rays were shining on 
her little bed), Annouchka brought her a great 
armful of flowers and cowslip balls. The two 
friends threw these balls at each other. Frida 
was still so weak that she often let the balls fall. 
Annouchka gathered them up from out the cor- 
ners, from under the furniture, with the agility 
of a cat ; and all this amused the little invalid 
immensely. 


FRINGE HERMANN, REGENT. 77 

After this long illness the madonna-like child 
was more the equal of her companion, and almost 
as simple-minded as she was. These little ones 
exchanged their remembrances in the gravest 
manner : 

“Do you remember, Annouchka?” 

“Oh! yes, mademoiselle.” 

It was Annouchka who remembered the barn 
stories best now, and it was Frida who asked for 
them and listened to them in her turn. 

“And that other, Annouchka, you know the 
one I mean . . . the one in which Mme. de 
Pompadour comes in.” 

And then Annouchka would patiently com- 
mence : 

“At the time when Mme. de Pompadour 
reigned over France. . .” 

One day Annouchka failed to come. In caring 
for her young mistress she had contracted her 
disease. A few days later she was dead. 

Frida mourned for the humble companion, who 
had given up her life for her, for a long time. As 
she was already, at the age of nine years, very 
reflective and precocious, she fully understood 
all that was noble in this sacrifice. She prom- 
ised herself to be always good to the poor, to 
return them by all the means in her power some- 




✓ 





V8 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT \ 

thing of what she had received from this beggar 
child, whose heart was so large. The impression 
which this love had made upon her was inefface- 
able, this strength of devotion and abnegation 
concealed in the heart of those not possessing the 
good things of this earth, is a rarity. Already 
she had become accustomed to compare the 
simplicity of heart possessed by her friends, the 
“Moujicks” (she believed them to be all good), 
to the pride and haughtiness of the noblemen and 
the grand ladies who came to visit her mother 
from time to time, and before whom she felt very 
ill at ease. Thus, the memory of her little 
beggar friend sanctified Frida. She knew she 
was pretty, but she strove to forget that beauty 
for which another had given her life. She 
repudiated from that time on all the little tricks 
of feminine coquetry, and her strange, seductive 
power seemed to grow greater thereby. 

At this time, two sudden catastrophes wrecked 
the house of de Thalberg. 

Frida’s grandfather, Prince Kariskine, impli- 
cated in a Nihilist conspiracy — guilty, in reality, 
only from a sentimental complicity, and who 
stopped far short of consent to the u propa- 
gande par les fails ” — was exiled to Siberia. 
This grandfather, Frida had often heard her 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 


79 


mother speak of with respect, mingled with 
uneasin ess and blame, as an excellent man, but 
occupiel with secret and dangerous enterprises, 
as u a dreamer.” “A dreamer!” she did not 
exactly know what that really meant, but she 
divined that this word must signify something 
distinguished and generous. Prince Kariskine 
had coi7;e to Thalberg two or three times. Frida 
had lovrd him for his beautiful white beard and 
for the fairy tales which he told her. Once he 
had taken Frida and Annouchka for a long walk ; 
and seeing Annouchka kissing the hands of her 
pretty mistress every minute, Frida indolently 
allowing her to do it as she was so accustomed to 
this adoration, the grandfather had said : “ Why 
do you not embrace your little friend, in turn?” 
And Frida, a little reluctantly, had embraced 
Annouchka. 

At the same time that Prince Kariskine was 

condemned the Count de Thalberg found himself 

ruined. The remainder of the estate was sold, 

the Count left fifty or sixtj^ thousand rubles with 

his wife and daughter, and then he started for 

* 

America to endeavor in that land of promise to 
retrieve his losses. 

The Countess met these disasters very tran- 
quilly, protected and dulled by the softness of 


80 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

her nature. She installed herself in a little apart- 
ment in St. Petersburg, picked up a few relations 
with whom she had formerly not been very much 
impressed, and soon fell back again into the 
inertia of dreamer and reader of novels. But 
Frida felt as though she were suffocating ; she 
longed for her free life and her friends the 
“Moujicks.” Then an irresistible desire took 
possession of her — to see again, if only for once, 
her grandfather. Her thoughts were of him 
only ; she pictured him loaded with heavy chains 
and sleeping on straw in a black hole, as the 
prisoners did in the stories and melodramas 
which she had read. The child’s heart was 
bursting with a love and a pity which made her 
actually ill. She did not despair. She insisted 
so strenuously and so persistently that the Count- 
ess, less from filial love than from her incapac- 
ity to resist Frida’s continual supplications, 
and perhaps the romantic aspect of the journey 
fascinated her, finally asked for and obtained 
leave to go and visit her father in his prison. 

Frida insisted upon setting out at once in spite 
of the weather. Oh, the hardships and intermin- 
able length of that journey ! Whole days and 
sometimes nights in sleighs gliding silently over 
the snow-covered ground, or jolted distressingly 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 81 

in the primitive carriages of the country across 
the infinite pallor of the steppes, over which 
lmug a low and reddish sky! Weary hours in 
which they were detained by whirlwinds of 
snow ; the howling of hungry wolves ; miserable 
lodgings in the dark little villages built of wood 
or brick and scattered here and there along the 
borders of ice-choked rivers. The child seemed 
to be sensible of nothing ; her heart was bound 
up in the end of her journey. But one day she 
was taken ill, and they were obliged to halt at an 
isolated hut near Kirghiz. The husband was a 
sable hunter, and the wife carried the products 
of his hunts to the nearest city, which was thirty 
versts from their home, and in the warm weather 
led three goats to the scanty pasture of a strip of 
land near by. This woman was seized with a 
sudden and intense love for the poor little 
stranger cast by chance among them, and whom 
she well knew once cured she would never see 
again, yet she nursed her with the passion of a 
mother, whilst the Countess, buried under skins 
in a corner of the hut, was deeply interested in 
one of Gaboriau’s novels. This poor woman of 
Kirghiz was another Annouchka ! Frida, in bid- 
dingt his worthy savage good-by, embraced her 
passionately. 


82 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


The latter part of the journey was easier. The 
spring had come, a spring common to the extreme 
north, sudden and almost brutal, and soon was 
as scorching as summer. After a short detention 
in the nearest city, Frida and her mother were 
conducted to the prison. A high palisade, formed 
of immense logs, was built in a square in a barren 
field. Inside there were long, low wooden build- 
ings around a large courtyard ; and here and 
there walked sentinels armed with rifles. The 
visitors were introduced into a wooden hut, 
which stood near the postern. Prince Kariskine 
came in accompanied by a soldier. 

Frida threw herself into his arms. 

“Oh ! my grandfather, my dear, dear grand- 
father ! ” 

The prisoner pressed his lips lightly to the 
child’ s forehead. He was not sixty years old when 
he had been exiled, now he had the appearaece 
of a man of eighty. A year in Siberia had made 
a human wreck of him. His eyes were those of 
the dead, his beard as yellow as that of a very 
old man. AVhile the Countess, not waiting to 
question him as to his own welfare, 'started off, 
in her low, soft voice, to tell him the incidents of 
their journey, Frida gazed at the old man in sor- 
rowful amazement, scanning his vest and his 


X 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 83 

pantaloons of gray cloth, half gray and half 
brown, and remarked that what little hair 
remained on his head had been shaved close on 
one side. A question rose to her lips, a ques- 
tion which she did not dare give utterance to, 
but which finally escaped : 

u Grandfather,” she said, softly, fearfully, 

4 4 you have no chains, have you ? ” 

The old man took the child’s hand, and placing 
it on his leg, made her feel four thick iron 
bands fastened together by three rings, and in a 
dull, low voice, as of one unaccustomed to 
speech, explained to her how to the center ring 
was attached a strap, buckled at the other end 
to a belt which he wore under his flannel shirt. 

And all at once the child burst out sobbing. 
Before this outburst of childish grief Kariskine 
felt his dry eyes fill with tears, and the depths 
of his tenderness reopen, in spite of the block of 
mournful despair which he thought had sealed the 
fountain of his love. He took his little grand- 
child in his arms, pressed her against his heart, 
and, sobbing with her, he covered her face with 
loving kisses. 

44 Ah! my darling!” sighed the old man, 
44 why didst thou come? Why didst thou come, 
my little Frida % ” 







84 


PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 


This scene decided the whole moral future of 
Mile, de Thalberg. In the eyes of this ignorant 
child, who only knew that her grandfather 
was good, and who could not conceive how it 
was possible for him to be guilty, the words 
“ government ” and “ political powers” signified, 
from that time forth, an unjust and oppressive 
power which she hated with all her heart. And, 
later, when she was no longer a child, she still 
retained an instinctive rebellion against all 
authority, a tendency to confound in the same 
hatred kings, emperors, or governors and the 
“^wicked men” who had made her grandfather 
suffer so intensely. 

One year after that visit to the prison, the 
Countess de Thalberg was living in a quiet little 
city in the northern part of Prussia, where she 
had been invited to go by a friend. Frida was 
attending a school frequented by the daughters 
of farmers, magistrates, and officers. There, for 
the first time, to her great surprise, the innate 
charm which without an effort on her part had 
formerly made so many friends for her, suddenly 
ceased to be felt. The schoolmistresses, rigid 
Protestants, took a dislike to this dreamy pupil, 
who was attentive to all her duties, but in whom 
they instinctively divined a secret rebellion, a 









/ 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT . 85 

freedom of thought which they could not under- 
stand. The delicacy of her beauty and the 
vivacity of her intelligence excited the jealousy 
of her companions. Perhaps these young girls, 
dull and lifeless, might have pardoned her and 
even admitted her beauty if Frida’s disposition 
had at all resembled theirs ; but the newcomer 
irritated them, they could not say how ; by the 
precocious license of her judgment, the criticisms 
of the young barbarian on the aristocratic and 
bourgeois convenances ; on everything which 
to them seemed the most sacred. Generally 
they left her alone quietly, out of respect for her 
birth and her rank, and the general antipathy 
with which she inspired them did not go as far 
as persecution. 

But one day all this changed. The pupils were 
whispering in secret ; a conspiracy was being 
organized under the direction of a strong, robust, 
red-headed girl of twelve years, daughter of the 
President of the Tribunal. ‘ It was in winter ; the 
snow was very thick. They commenced amus- 
ing themselves by erecting a snow fort in 
the play ground. Frida unsuspiciously took 
her share in the work. When it was finished 
the red-headed girl pushed her roughly into the 
fort. 




86 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT . 

44 Put lier in Siberia, the Nihilist! To Si- 
beria!” 

The child resisted. The fierce children, with 
the cowardliness of a crowd, sent her rolling over 
and over in the snow. 

u To Siberia with her like her grandfather ! ” 

They knew that Frida was the granddaughter 
of Prince Kariskine. And all these little Pome- 
ranian rakes, offsprings of functionaries and gen- 
darmes, filled with an hereditary instinct, and as 
excited as if they were already the saviors of 
society, pushed and tossed the fragile child about 
and pelted her with snow-balls as hard as stones. 

Frida no longer resisted. Crouched against 
the wall, she waited in fierce patience the end of 
her punishment. For one moment she seemed to 
have a vision. With closed eyes, her head cov- 
ered with her woolen shawl and protected by her 
upraised arms, she stood motionless under the 
grape-shot of snow, and her thoughts turned to 
her grandfather ; that in reality she was like him, 
that she was persecuted like him, because she 
possessed a different soul from the others and 
thoughts unknown to those who made up in 
every country la societe reguliere. She felt all 
this in a confused way. She was exalted by a 
great pride ; the heart of an insurgent was born 


PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 


87 


in her. Across the immensity of the steppes her 
soul communicated with the grandfather who 
was tortured in that house of the dead, and from 
afar she sent him in spirit a kiss full of love. . . 

The Countess and her daughter left the city 
just after this occurrence, and from that time 
forth they wandered in Germany, in Austria, in 
Italy, leading a thoroughly cosmopolitan life. 
Mme. de Thalberg found it impossible to 
settle herself to make a home ; in fact she no 
longer felt the necessity for it. Her strolling 
propensity was satisfied in traveling on the cars, 
and found pleasure in this existence, without 
ties, in this life, spent in lodgings and hotels, 
whose ever-changing aspect would not allow of 
ennui , and which, doing away with all duty, 
with all internal care, gave her just as much as 
she craved of “home” in which to read, sleep, 
and dream. 

This international vagabondage had a double 
effect on Frida. On one side, the child brought 
herself up, she developed without restraint, was 
ignorant alike of the prejudices and convention- 
alities which a sedentary life brings with it ; she 
gathered little by little upon the great world 
and the different aspects of humanity, scattered 
and incomplete notions, but withal variegated 


88 PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 

and sincere ; and slie contracted the habit of 
being astonished at nothing. But, on the other 
hand, these continual movings interdicted long 
and serious friendships, and permitted her to 
form but superficial relations with wanderers like 
herself ; the temporary unpacking of trunks, 
never entirely emptied, did not give her time to 
place her heart upon a person or an idea ; and 
thus a power for loving accumulated in this ten- 
der little girl’s heart and agitated her with vague 
uneasiness. 

This manner of living had rapidly eaten up 
Mine, de Thalberg’s sixtv thousand rubles. 
The two ladies had known tight places, unpaid 
bills, jewelry in pawn. The Countess preserved 
an unchangaeble carelessness throughout it all. 
And besides, in their most desperate straits, 
sums of money had come from America ; some- 
times they were very large ones, . sent by the 
Count when his affairs were in a prosperous con- 
dition. 

Once he had even written to the two, that 
having retrieved his fortune, he had made up 
his mind to return to Europe, and he asked them 
to meet him at Marseilles. 

They did wait for him there for two months, 

when a letter came which announced the fact 

v 





PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 89 


that the Count was suddenly ruined by a “ crash, ” 
and that he must commence all over again. 

Then it was Nice, Monaco, Monte Carlo. . . 
This was the period which Frida remembered 
with the greatest bitterness. She was then about 
sixteen ; the Countess commenced to show her 
off, her only hope being in a good marriage for 
her daughter. Mingling in that gay society in 
which were found worldly people, men of money, 
adventurers^ and demi-mondaines , Frida saw in 
all its nakedness, and detested for its foolishness 
and hardness this life led by people of pleasure. 
She thought, in all good faith, that what was 
called “the world ’ 5 was this medley. Then, 
because she was handsome, and they suspected 
that she was poor, she had to submit to homages 
of which she did not immediately divine the 
nature ; she was obliged to repulse the ignoble 
offers of old men, rascally advances, and, even 
once, brutal force. All this disgusted her with 
love. 

Then their money gave out ; they no longer 
heard anything of the Count. Frida dragged her 
mother to Paris, that refuge for the miserable. 

Although they possessed but a very small 
amount, they settled themselves in a family hotel 
in the Champs Elysees. They lost a month in this 

# 




90 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


bewildering wait looking for pupils for the piano, 
or in making visits to fellow countrymen discov- 
ered in Tout-Paris. There were useless visits, 
and for the most part humiliating ones, from 
which they carried away tiresome promises or 

beggarly alms. It must be confessed that, their 

» 

jewels pawned and their wardrobe sold, they 
began to look like poor adventurers. 

They then rented a room in a very modest hotel 
in the Batignolles. Here they became acquainted 
with the dire distress of the poor of Paris, isola- 
tion in a desert of three millions of men, and 
the despair and misery in the midst of a throb- 
bing, voluptuous life. 

From the first, Frida had accustomed herself 
to this poverty, which succeeded so rudely to the 
luxurious traveling and the fine cosmopolitan 
hotel life. She started in to learn how to cook, 
to mend the little linen and make over the few 
dresses which still remained to the two poor 
women. At present she was economizing their 
last money, money obtained by the sale of a 
medal of the Commander of the Order of St. 
Vladimir, an old jewel, formerly given by Prince 
Kariskine to his granddaughter. And that the 
Countess might forget her troubles, she had 
managed to subscribe to a circulating library. 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


91 


And she recalled the poverty of the Moujicks, 
her friends of other days, the poverty of 
Annouchka, the poverty of the woman of Kir- 
ghiz, in whose hut she had been so ill. And in 
remembrance of all their sufferings she deigned 
to make no complaint ; her sufferings had the 
interest of a tragic experience for her, and she 
awaited with a quiet tranquility the denouement 
of it all ; whether it were to be death or the 
chance of a savior. 

But, one day the two women were suffering 
the pangs of hunger. While the Countess, cov- 
ered by a furred pelisse, in a corner of the garret, 
was absorbed by the “ Mysteries of Paris,” Frida 
went down into the street, wandering aimlessly. 
Night fell, the passers-by jested coarsely with 
her. An infinite hatred took possession of her 
against this society, in which you could die of 
starvation and nobody would know of it, or even 
care, and when she knew that, even had her pride 
permitted her ; being beautiful, she could not 
hold out her hand for alms without being 
insulted. And a species of joy crept in with 
this hate, as she felt herself the unknown sister 
of so many other victims ; in thinking that her 
particular distress increased on her part the atro- 
cious debt of the old world, and contributed 


m 


92 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

doubtless in hastening the work of a mysterious 
justice, which held itself in reserve, but which 
forgot nothing and which would eventually can- 
cel all its debts. These strange ideas agitated 
her in a strange, mysterious manner. And she 

remembered these things : the little German 

• 

bourgeoises who had pelted her with snow ; the 
martyrdom of her grandfather ; and the famine 
among the peasants of which she had heard them 
speak in her childhood. . . And, thinking her- 
self about to die, her whole heart failed her, and 
she was overwhelmed with a great pity for the 
innumerable crowd of sufferers in all countries 
and in all centuries. 

Her strength seemed to be leaving her. Her 
limbs failed her, her temples were throbbing, and 
with great difficulty she regained the house. 

On the staircase she met a woman dressed in 
black, who moved to one side to let her pass. 

This woman was ugly, but her face was so good 
that it inspired love. She had the look of some 
old nuns, common and bloated, of uncertain age, 
but whose eyes and whose whole appearance be- 
spoke the certainty of charity. 

Frida mounted the stairs painfully, clinging to 
the balustrade. The woman in black gazed at 
her earnestly for a moment, and then in three 


PRINCE HERMANN, \ RECENT. 93 

steps — the steps of a man or a canteen-woman — 
she rejoined her and pushed a piece of silver 
in her hand, murmuring in a deep but sweet 
voice : 

“ I beg of you ! I beg of you ! ” 

She then descended the stairs quickly, without 
giving the young girl time to reply to her. 

This was Andotia Latanief, implicated eight 
years before in the conspiracy which had exiled 
Prince Kariskine to Siberia. She had taken 
refuge in Paris, where she worked for “ the 
cause.” She lived in the same house with Frida ; 
here she occupied two little rooms filled with 
workingmen’s furniture and piles of pamphlets, 
and newspapers tacked along the walls. 

The next day Frida, who had learned who she 
was, came to thank her benefactress. She told 
her her story. Andotia, notwithstanding her 
cosmopolitanism, could not learn without feeling 
great emotion that she was her compatriot. 
And when she knew whose grandchild Frida 
was she embraced her maternally. 

“My child,” said the old revolutionary, “I 
will speak to the Duchess about you.” 

One of Andotia’ s latest friends was this uneasy 
and theatrical Duchess de Montcernay, whose 
generous whims amused all Paris. Superior by 


94 PRINCE HERMANN RECENT. 

her sentiments to a life of luxury, to worldly 
show, to prejudices of race and miserly well-do- 
ing ; in short, to all the shallow life of great lady, 
that her name and her fortune imposed upon 
her, she had long since freed herself from its 
trammels. She had commenced a little nervously 
by “ encouraging the arts,” and had even herself 
painted some mediocre pictures and written 
pretty bad verses ; and then she had bravely sac- 
rificed some millions in vague enterprises of 
sentimental politics and reformed democracy. 
Then she had taken up pliilantrophy, building 
orphanages and houses of retreat in a style and 
outlay as costly as the hunting stables of a lord, 
and where each little ragamuffin’s head repre- 
sented the outlay of five thousand francs. But, 
on the other hand, she paid for these whims from 
her own purse. Each morning she gave vent 
to her need for emotion by visiting the poor her- 
self (her coupe in attendance at the door), and it 
was at the bedside of a workingman’s wife that 
Andotia had met her. 

“She is my friend,” said Andotia, “she does 
not accept the whole truth, but she is willing to 
learn.” 

\ 

Whether it was through the intercession of the 
Duchess, or by Andotia’ s efforts — who, being 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 05 

always out of doors, led the most mysteriously 
active life, and had, no one could tell how, rela- 
tions in all classes of society — Frida at last suc- 
ceeded in getting some German lessons to give, 
and also some in music, and earned just enough 
to enable them to live very modestly. She knew 
all the by-ways of Paris. She had experienced 
all the discomforts of poverty: little crusts 
munched as she walked along, cracked shoes, a 
waterproof coat which let in more rain than it 
kept out, an umbrella which drenched her with 
rain-drops, and the long, weary waiting at the 
omnibus stations. She was more dian resigned 
— she was proud of working ; and, little by little, 
all the outside impressions which she received 
were transformed in her heart to sentiments of 
charity and compassion. In the crowds which 
filled the omnibuses and tramways the pinched 
faces of the poor threw her into deep reveries ; 
she guessed their histories in the inspection of 
their features and manners, and reconstructed 
their existence of humble labor and sacrifice ; 
and moved by her own imaginations she silently 
extended her sympathy to these unknown poor. 
And in consequence of the politeness of every- 
one to her, owing no doubt to her grace and 
her pretty face, she was astonished to find the 


06 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 

crowd among whom she mingled in the public 
conveyances so polite. 

At the same time she conceived a passionate 
love for Andotia. And she, seeing Frida so in- 
genuous, so brave, and so delicately beautiful, 
simply adored her. In this tenderness there was 
a feeling of maternity and respect, something 
of the sentiments of the high-priest for the lit- 
tle King Joas, or of an old monk for a young 
novice from whom he expects great things ; as 
if, in fact, the old socialist had conceived the 
idea of training Frida to great feats. 

One morning the newspapers announced the 
death of Prince Kariskine. A few days after- 
ward Andotia said to her young friend : 

“ Come with me this evening.” 

She took her to a public reunion, where they 
were to deliberate upon what steps to take in the 
approaching anniversary of the 18tli of March. 
But the real object of the meeting was to pro- 
nounce upon and listen to generous and violent 

words full of the madness of a dream 

Andotia spoke first. With the eloquence of a 
preacher, in a monotonous and sing-song tone, 
which an internal fire gradually heated, she 
delivered what might be called the funeral ora- 
tion of their old companion Kariskine. She 





PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 97 

spoke of his life and the sacrifices which he had 
made for the cause. She related his martyrdom 
and detailed his sufferings in the prison. “ And 
what was his crime, my comrades ? ” She enum- 
erated his virtues, she spoke of his humanity, 
his simplicity, his hatred for injustice, his disin- 
terestedness, his childlike sweetness ; she related 
anecdotes of him, and all at once she cried out : 

“I present you to his little grandchild here 
beside me ! ” 

All eyes were turned toward Frida, who was 
seated on the stage, on one of the lateral benches, 
in a tight-fitting black dress, her head crowned 
by her wealth of golden brown hair, her mouth 
half open in amazement, showing her pretty white 
teeth ; her face was illuminated by her deep emo- 
tions. Tears flowed from her light blue eyes, and 
she could not tell whether they came from sorrow 
in thinking of her grandfather, or from the joy 
of feeling herself loved by all these hearts. 

Andotia took her to other meetings ; not to 
those in which she foresaw foolish and ferocious 
outbursts and struggles, but only to those meet- 
ings which she knew would partake of religious 
ceremonies, or where it was a question of honor- 
ing their martyrs or celebrating anniversaries. 
Besides, the vagueness of Andotia’ s doctrines 





08 PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 

enabled lier to belong to all the revolutionary 
parties, and they all welcomed her to their 
meetings, because she was for all, the voice 
which carried them away, which cursed, which 
blessed, which exalted and excited them, the 
one who feted the saints and solemnized their 
remembrances, the officiating priestess and the 
prophetess ! 

Frida enjoyed these meetings. At first the 
grossness of several of her new brethren, the bad 
smell, their black hands, their unkempt beards, 
had put her delicacy to a very severe proof. But 
she shamed herself out of her repugnance, as 
being a mean, low sentiment, and she forced her- 
self to love these miserable creatures, such as 
they were. This effort was strengthened by a 
candid and infinite optimism and by the precious 
gift of not seeing or recognizing the ugliness and 
the badness of it all until there was really no 
way of doing otherwise. If by chance she dis- 
covered in spite of herself that there were, how- 
ever, among her companions many wicked brutes, 
she thought : “It is not their fault they are so 
unhappy ! ” She was but little exposed to these 
cruel discoveries, however ; for her grace acted as 
a safeguard for her, even against the most vulgar 
and stupid. They watched over their actions 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


99 


and their speech before her ; they surrounded her 
with little attentions on account of her grand- 
father, the martyr ; she was very popular in all 
the clubs ; she was the charming little Virgin 
of the Social Vindication, and she innocently 
enjoyed this glory. 

The revolutionary world seemed as sweet to 
her as an ideal brotherhood. Every day she 
conceived a higher idea of the goodness of the 
poor. Of the theories which she heard discussed 
at the clubs she retained but such as fed her 
credulous generosity. She was not worried 
about the contradiction of the doctrines of Col- 
lectivism, Possibilism, Communism, Anarchism, 
even ; she only saw in all these theories but what 
there was in common between them ; a dream of 
a just and fraternal society. And what was 
most seductive to her, in this future city, was 
her own moral chimera, and the very fact that 
she could not subsist or be contented without 
giving forth an immensity of good will to all 
men. And as Frida was capable in herself 
of the virtues which alone would make this 
Utopia possible, she thought it realizable in fact. 
The brutally egotistical dream of most of her 
“ comrades,” Socialism, was for her a dream of 
sacrifice. 


100 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 

What attracted her also, was the religious tone 
in the spiritual condition created by the social- 
istic faith in the minds of men who were not 
altogether wicked. For it is in reality a faith. 
Frida was perfectly insensible to the objections 
to it. How did these dreams come to her? She 
knew not, but these things must have happened. 
The most learned among them say: “It is the 
law of evolution ! ” As in other religions they 
say : “ It is the will of God ! ” 

The disposition of the hearts of fervent Com- 
munists are not very different from those of the 
first Christians, when they awaited a message 
from the Man-God and believed in his near 
coming, although the Roman world put as many 
obstacles in the way of their desire as our world 
places in the path of the present day Anarchists. 

Besides the faith of hope, Frida found a new 
religion. The ceremonies attending the public 
reunions, the mementos of the saints, the cele- 
bration of bloody and glorious anniversaries, 
were her masses and her vespers. This young 
girl, without a country and until then without a 
religion (later she reunited herself to the ortho- 
dox Russian Church), found thus in the Social- 
istic dream a complete religion, in which she 
could satisfy all the demands of her imagination 




PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 10 1 

and her heart. And her heart was exalted much 
more in the fact that this Revolutionary Church, 
of which she formed a part, lived partly in a deep 
mystery, with all the bearings of a persecuted 
church, or one at least looked down upon by 
good society, rejected by it; and in its workings 
conspiring and underhand. 

It was just about this time that the “ Duchess ” 
proposed that Frida should accept a place as 
companion to the Baroness de Winden, whose 
husband was Councilor to the Ambassador to 
Alfaine. 

Frida refused the offer at first, notwithstanding 
her mother’s prayers. The Countess de Thalberg 
had made no active opposition to Frida’s new 
ideas. Passive and easily molded, the good 
lady ‘had allowed herself to become vaguely 
revolutionary, urged on, no doubt, by her hatred 
of poverty ; as in the same manner she would 
have remained a conservative, an orthodox 
Christian, or faithful to the Czar, if she had 
continued the peaceful tenor of her life at Cour- 
lande. But it was for this reason also, that she 
could not understand why Frida repulsed this 
offer to get away from their life of mediocrity 
and re-enter “ their world.” 

Andotia intervened : 




f 



102 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

66 Accept this offer,” slie said to Frida, “ you 
owe it to your mother.” 

Frida submitted. She been little more than 
a week at the Baroness’ when she met Prince 
Hermann. 

A Royal Prince ! The presumptive heir of 
an absolute monarchy ! He could only inspire 
in Frida feelings of defiance and aversion. And 
yet, two months later, Frida was in Alfaine, 
reconciled to her great-uncle, the Marquis de 
Franenlaub, who, since Prince Karaskine’s assim- 
ulation with the Nihilists had repudiated Frida 
and her mother; the Countess was living near 
the old nobleman (she died a little while after- 
ward, with no regret, save that she had not 
finished reading her last novel), and Frida was 
introduced to Court as maid of honor to Prin- 
cess Wilhelmine. 

How was all this accomplished ? 

Frida, at first, felt it to be her duty to resist 
Hermann’s offers. She had consulted Andotia, 
her old friend, who, after questioning her very 
closely about the Prince, had said to her: 

“ Co ! It is your fate! We will see each 
other again, some day, perhaps ... do not 
write to me, it is useless.” 

And Frida had heard no more from or about 


PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 103 

Andotia, until the day on which she had secretly 
come to Marbourg to spread the good work, and 
had been arrested in an uprising of the strikers. 

She now understood this silence, and why the 
old woman, on leaving her, had given her no mis- 
sion, not even advice. Marvelous forethought ! 
If only in loving the Prince, if only in show- 
ing him her true self, in opening her heart 
and her thoughts, little by little, in the conversa- 
tions, which the rarity and slight mystery of the 
meetings made more significant, and more 
precious for both of them, Frida exercised over 
Hermann a very sweet and powerful influence. 
In this indefinite liaison, loving, and yet perfectly 
chaste, the speculative intelligence of the philo- 
sophical Prince allowed itself to be slowly 
penetrated and overcome by the intrepid senti- 
mentality of his little friend. He was perfectly 
willing to believe that she was clearer-seeing in 
her enthusiastic candor than politicians and econ- 
omists, and already he admitted that the best solu- 
tion to the everlasting social problems, was, per- 
haps, confiding goodness, audacious charity, and 
an appeal to the hearts of all those interested. 

And now, while the carriage was rolling through 
the woods, and the flying trees threw their 
shadows across the two lanterns, Frida thought 


104 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


that a solemn hour had come to her ; that she 
possessed the heart of him who held the fate of 
a nation in his hand ; that these people were 
about to be made happy through her ; and for 
this sublime and secret role all the adventures of 
her life had prepared her, and fashioned her by 
a marvelous predestination. 

The carriage drove alongside a gray wall hid- 
den by shrubs, then stopped before a gateway. 
A girl in peasant’s dress came to open it, who said 
to the old coachman: “ Good-evening, grand- 

father ? ” The carriage entered, followed a wind- 
ing roadway and finally stopped before the door 
of a house of large proportions, with gabled roof, 
and surrounded by a terrace with stone balus- 
trades. 

“ Have you had a pleasant journey, Madame ? ” 
asked the girl. 

“ Thank you ; yes, Kate. Is my room ready ? ” 

“ Yes, Madame ! ” 

Frida opened her window. The shrubbery in 
the park, and further away the immovable tops of 
the forest trees slept under the milky sky. No 
noise was heard but the rustle of the leaves, or the 
flight of some nocturnal bird. Frida’s thoughts 
became religious in this serene and peaceful si- 
lence. And her heart swelled with infinite hope. 




IX. 






In the “Echos” of Figaro and Gaulois the 
following can be read, under date of October 10, 
1900. 


“The hunt was called yesterday at Montclairin, 
the Baron Issachar’s place. His Royal High' 
ness Prince Otto of Alfaine led the hunt. The 
hunt lunch was served at the Duchess de Beau- 
geney’s. In the evening a grand dinner was 
served to the Baron’s guests in the celebrated 


gallery of ‘Prinatice.’ Among the illustrious 
people present was the Marquis de Baule, the 
Baron and Baroness Onan, the Count and Count- 
ess de Messas, the Viscount de Mizian, the Duke 
and Duchess de Villorceau, and M. Dubois.” 
Generally, the “echos” of this kind cost 
Issachar, all told, two or three hundred thousand 
francs : about sixty thousand for the expenses of 
the repast and the reception, and each evening 
forty thousand francs for Prince Otto’s game. 
And the Prince was so great an admirer of the 
Baron that he had been in the habit for several 
years of passing a whole week at Montclairin. 

105 




106 PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 

Until now Issackar liad not found this too dear 
a price to pay. To be publicly acknowledged as 
the friend of a prince, and not only a prince a la 
douzaine , but of a true prince, possible inheritor 
of a real and very old crown, was indeed worth 
some sacrifices. This tenacious little Jew had no 
halfway heart, and he knew how to pay royally 
for his royal friendships, and his limitless ambi- 
tion, whose vilest tricks had never been aught 
else but the secret servants of his overweening 
pride. Thirty years before he had started out by 
being the business man of a woman noted for her 
economies, Bertha de Chatou. He afterward 
married the old manager of a “Family Hotel,’’ a 
little over-ripe, but who was very well-to-do, and 
ah ! how he had multiplied that wealth. He dis- 
appeared for ten years. He was “ working” 
some place in Asia Minor. He reappeared with 
thirty millions. He had quintupled them, it was 
rumored, on the Bourse. He was Democratic- 
Conservative, profuse in his alms, provided they 
were published, an enlightened “ protector,” and 
noisily generous toward letters and arts. And 
notwithstanding his circumcision, he was an 
avowed devotee to the throne and the church. 
His greatest dream was to be of “ the world,” of 
the highest and most restricted circle, of the 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 107 

world of the “faubourg,” or what remained of 
the “faubourg.” And as his snobbishness easily 
confounded aristocratic life with the conven- 
tions of the sporting set, “pseudo-elegantes ,” 
he had become pre-eminently the “correct” 
man, of an implacable correctness, amusing by 
the serious manner in which he carried himself. 
Cold, stiff, sober in gestures, ultra-English in 
dress and carriage, he had, in the cut of his beard 
and his clothing and in the weighty and impres- 
sive aspect of his whole person, the rigidity of a 
linear drawing. 

This hobby of Issachar’s was a very natural 
one. If the nobility has died out in France, at 
least as a political class, it lives still and more 
than ever in the worldly class. And the super- 
stition which it inspires among the parvenus is 
perhaps stronger because its prestige no longer 
rests on an effective power, but on remembrances, 
empty conventionalities, and absolute nothing- 
ness. It exists much more, in one sense, in the 
fact that it survives the social organization which 
was its reason for being, more from the good 
opinion which it still retains of itself. To pene 
trate into this world, which has remained closed 
against them in theory, and, above all, to be 
yourself of this world, became for people like 


108 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT 

the Baron the only desirable thing, because it is 
the only thing that is difficult for them. They 
have everything but this, and they must have 
this also. It is a craze, a rage, which makes the 
most insolent capable of all manner of cringing, 
and makes the most miserly among them throw 
his money to right and left. 

It was indeed by the window that the Baron 
threw his, because at least that could be seen. 
And then this money thrown away by the hand- 
ful and with a careless manner was not so in 
reality, for the Baron knew exactly where it had 
fallen. This man, who offered to the national 
museums paintings worth a million, re-imbursed 
himself by buying American stocks at fabulous 
figures ; this man, who at each distressing catas- 
trophe, such as inundations, conflagrations, 
frosts, and earthquakes, sent in his subscription 
to Figaro for one hundred thousand francs, was 
in his own house the hardest master, the strictest 
disciplinarian, prying into and searching out the 
smallest details with the mania of a housekeeper. 

One of his traits was notorious. A friend of 
his had called to see him and found him in his 
office, where he was partaking of his meager 
breakfast — some rolls and a cup of tea. While 
he was talking the Baron amused himself by try- 


PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 109 

ing to catch the flies (it was mid-summer). As 
soon as he caught one he carefully lifted the lid 
of the sugar bowl and delicately introduced his 
fly, quickly replacing the cover of the bowl. 
Seeing the look of astonishment on his friend’s 
face, he said : 

u I will see if the fly is still there to-morrow. 
It is easier than counting the lumps of sugar. I 
do not like to be robbed.” 

That same morning he had donated five hun- 
dred thousand francs to a Catholic orphan 
asylum. 

Miser he was not, save at rare intervals when 
his Jewish nature reappeared for a moment ; he 
did not care for money for itself, but for what it 
represented — for the power of which it was the 
outward sign and instrument. And he was not 
wanting in a certain probity either. He had, in 
order to accumulate his enormous fortune, 
wronged and defrauded a multitude of unhappy 
ones, but from afar, by indirect means, without 
being a witness to their ruin or their tears ; 
and, all told, his victims could have defrauded 

M others and defended themselves as he had done. 
And certainly, when his poverty was greatest 
he had never consented, even had the occasion 
presented itself, to appropriate par larcin fur - 


110 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

tivement fait the pocketbook of another ; for 
that would truly be money wickedly acquired, 
being taken from a person not previously warned, 
and not being paid for by a sufficient sum of work, 
energy, or patience. But banking and business 
was a battle, it was not a theft. All this gold 
that he had accumulated was the price of his 
activity, of his daring gambling, of his foresight 
as a man of business, of his superior intellect. 
And, doubtless, to understand and absorb thus 
les affaires was to proclaim by a trick the right 
of the strongest and wiliest ; it was to admit that 
the chase for money was in reality, notwithstand- 
ing appearances, made under the same conditions 
that men in the stone age chased their prey. 
But this considei’ation did not strike Baron 
Issacliar. He concluded that the moral of the 
conquerors was good enough for him, and that 
the nobility of pilfering was in proportion 
to the accumulations, to the risks run by the 
accumulator, and the use to which he put his 
accumulations. 

Besides, his idea was to make a grand use of his 
enormous booty. He consecrated a part of it to 
the fusion (already far advanced) of the aristoc- 
racy of money with the aristocracy of nobility ; 
his hospitality was ostentatious ; he was ready 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


Ill 



to lend sums of money, on easy terms, to gentle- 
men in reduced circumstances ; and for several 
years he had had the glory of providing pocket 
money to one of the best known princes, belonging ' 
to one of the oldest European monarchies. 

But all the same, he commenced to find that 
this glory was costing him very dearly, and the 
benefits derived from this princely friendship 
remained purely “ moral.” He calculated that, 
besides the money he had won at cards, in 
the last eight or ten years he had lent Prince 
Otto very nearly five millions. And in return 
for his services, when the preceding year he had 
discreetly explained his very natural desire to 
obtain the concession of the copper mines- 
recently discovered in Alfaine, all the reply his 
Royal Highness made to him was an equivocal 
and embarrassed one. Was he to be taken for 
a dupe? Truly they expected from him an 
amount of disinterestedness which very nearly 
approached foolishness, and of which he had no 
idea, for the sake of his own welfare, that they 
should think him capable of. He became rather 
embittered after this. 

And now, on the very day in which he was 
expecting Prince Otto to arrive at Montclairin, 
he found in his letter bag a letter from the 


112 PRINCE HERMANN \ RECENT. 

directors of the Compagnie de l’Est, and a letter 
from the Viscountess Moreno, accompanied by 
two bills. 

The railroad company demanded the payment 
of five thousand francs for the Wagner palace 
car placed at the disposition of Prince Otto on 
his last journey to France. They had first sent 
the bill to the Prince, who simply replied that 
“ that was the Baron’s affair.” 

As to the Countess Moreno, a great lady, but 
given to galanteries , coming from Marbourg to 
Paris the month before with Otto, she had 
installed herself in a style in accordance with 
her position as mistress to a prince, in the 
grandest apartment of the Hotel Continental. 
Eight days later Otto set out for London (from 
which place he was to go direct to Montclairin), 
after having presented the Countess with jewelry 
worth twenty-five louis, but entirely forgetting to 
settle the hotel bill. He had merely left her in 
pawn, and very much embarrassed. A letter of 
appeal which she had sent him had remained 
unanswered. In her great distress she had 
recourse to her “old friend” the Baron. A bill 
for three thousand francs accompanied the letter, 

Issachar paid the two notes ; but when Otto 
reached Montclairin, as usual bon g argon and in 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 113 

good humor, there was something in the welcome 
which the Baron gave him, a reserve and an 
excess of respect, which presaged nothing good 
for those who knew our man. There were none 
of these little familiarities with his royal guest 
which he had been so proud to permit himself 
formerly, and which the laisser-aller and the 
bluntness of the Prince seemed to invite. But 
instead, he affected a ceremonial deference, which 
was made more hostile by the cold gleam of his 
eye and the wooden look of his face. 

And from the very first evening — in fact, in the 
game of baccarat, in which he was banker, the 
Baron did an unusual thing. He took care to 
throw down four or to draw oat six, as he had 
been in the habit of doing. Nevertheless he 
lost, at first, twelve thousand francs. For the 
first time he showed signs of impatience ; he 
grumbled, at which the other players displayed 
signs of astonishment and which the Prince 
hailed with jokes, which were a little heavy in 
their nature. Then, all at once, the game turned. 
About two o'clock in the morning the Prince 
had lost two thousand louis in I O U. 

The others, not being in the secret and under- 
standing nothing, commenced to be uneasy. 
They were all Otto’s friends, and what attracted 





114 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

them to Montclairin was that they counted 
more or less upon the benefits to be derived from 
this association. One of them was the Duke de 
Beaugeney, an old rascal, with a great red head, 
entirely bald, the nose of a soubrette overhanging 
a long, white beard, spread out like a fan. In 
fact, from the time he had emancipated himself 
from the judiciary, now nearly fifteen years ago, 
he had done nothing but enjoy himself mechan- 
ically as an employee goes to his desk ; and he 
passed, you knew not how, nor by what caprice of 
the Parisian beau monde , for the prince of 
“ chics” and the leader of the elegantes , al- 
ways without a penny, in the coils of all the 
usurers, reduced to practicing what you might 
call “the family swindling,” buying horses, 
pictures, wines, or jewels, which he resold after- 
ward for four times the price, certain that the 
Duchess would pay in the end rather than have 
a scandal, and that she would never have the 
courage to take refuge behind the legal inca- 
pacity of her miserable husband. Another was 
the Marquis de Baule, who, married to the daugh- 
ter of the Baron Onan, had not been able to get 
rid of the regime to which his millionaire wife 
had so strictly reduced his pocket money, and 
the baccarat of Montclairin was a very precious 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


115 


windfall for him. The third was Desraviers, a 
tall, blond type of cavalry officer, a sporting 
man without any known resources, and who held 
in the world the position of referee in questions 
of honor. 

“I make it two thousand louis,” said Prince 
Otto. 

This gave them renewed confidence, and each 

\ 

one made a big stake. Doubtless Issachar had 
only won as a whim. He knew his duty ; he 
was a brave man, incapable of violating the tacit 
compact which reunited them around the gaming 
table. Surely he was going to ‘ 4 give back ” the 
money. 

The Baron dealt the cards. Prince Otto smiled 
imperturbably. 

Issachar threw down nine. 

This was a puzzle to them. What was the 
matter, then, with the Baron and his guest ? The 
Duke, Desraviers, and the Marquis cast an ugly 
look toward the Prince, whose face was distorted 
by anger. 

u Shall we go on ?” asked the Baron. 

“ Are you mocking us? ” cried the Prince 
brutally. 

The other three had gotten out of the way with 
a discreet rapidity. 



116 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

“What do you want?” said the Prince, try- 
ing to contain himself. 

And he added, with the intonation of a Dupuis : 
“ That is well ! Oh ! but it is well ! And it is 
so much the worse, because I am forced to admit 

to you, my dear Baron ” 

“ Monseigneur,” softly interrupted Issachar, 
“ I beg your Royal Highness not to trouble your- 
self for so little. One of my business men will 
arrange regarding the four thousand louis of 
this evening, and also for the two notes, one for 
five thousand francs and the other for three 
thousand, which I had the pleasure of paying to 
the Compagnie de l’Est and to the Hotel Conti- 
nental ; in all eiglity-eight thousand francs.” 

He drew the bill from a pocketbook and con- 
tinued quietly : 

“ I will not speak of the five millions which I 
had the honor of advancing to your Highness in 
nine loans, the acknowledgments of which are 
here ” 

“ You have them in their order? ” 

“Precisely. It goes without saying that for 
this last amount I am disposed to grant a reason- 
able delay to your Highness , and that we will 
divide the payments to suit you.” 

Issachar 1 s tone was one of boundless respect. 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. H7 

“Why not all in one payment ?” sneered the 
Prince. 

“ I assure you, monseigneur, that I never spoke 
more seriously in my life before.” 

“ You know very well, my dear friend, that I 
have not a cent.” 

“Your Highness is surely jesting? ” 

“No, indeed, I am not.” 

“We are, then, serious, both of us. I like 
that better.” 

The Prince was pale with anger. Neverthe- 
less, with a motion of hail-fellow-well-met, he 
placed his hand on the Baron’s shoulder. 

“ Well, let me know your true thoughts. Tell 
me quickly ! ” 

“But, monseigneur, my true thoughts are just 
what I have told you.” 

“This concession of the mines, is not that 
so?” 

“ But you say you can do nothing ! ” 

The Prince was silent. The candles in the 
high candelabras, almost burnt out, stretched out 
their flames, showing ghastly in the coming day- 
light. The pallid light brightened up the Baron’s 
bald head, and he kept his eyes obstinately 
turned away from his questioner. A sconce burst. 
Issachar snuffed the burning: wick from which 



118 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 

rose immediately a thread of black smoke, and 
then all at once he said : 

44 What is the 4 Blue Eagle/ my lord ? ” 

44 You are very anxious to know ? ” 

44 Simple curiosity.” 

44 It is the most ancient order in Alfaine, an 
order reserved for noblemen who can claim 
thirty quarterings, or for victorious generals, or 

great scholars — for men who have rendered 

% 

some startling service to the kingdom, services 
which do not enrich those who perform them. . . 
The 4 Blue Eagle’ ! By Jove, it is worth more 
than the 4 Golden Fleece’! I warn you, my 
dear Baron, that it is much more difficult to 
obtain than a grant for mines or railroads.” 

44 One does not hinder the other,” said Issachar. 
Otta was chewing his mustaches. Contempt- 
uous and revengeful words were rising to his 
lips. 44 Do you wish a war, Monsieur Issachar? 
Indeed, you are reclaiming your money, which, 
in truth, cost you nothing and is stolen. You 
treat me as a debtor, I have then the right to 
treat you as a usurer, miserable Jew that you 
are! You are re-establishing, yourself, the dis- 
tances which I had the graciousness to forget 
for your comfort. Since there is no longer a 
Ghetto, and that our imbecile laws consider us as 



PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 119 

' 

men, they will give you back your money, but 
accompanied with the contempt which is due to 
your bold deviltry. . . ‘ The Blue Eagle ! ’ 

Kicks, you mean to say.” But these phrases he 
did not dare to utter them ; he understood well 
that the Baron had made up his mind definitely ; 
he felt himself caught in a trap, and he cringed, 
strangling with rage, before the omnipotence of 
gold. 

“ These,” he said at last, “are your condi- 
tions?” 


Issachar bowed humbly. 

“Oh, monseigneur, your Highness puts words 
in my mouth. . .” 

His Highness rose. 




I 


i. 





“At what hour does the first train leave for 
Paris ? ” 

“ At nine o’clock in the morning. The landau 
will be ready for you. Your Highness is return- 
ing to Marbourg ? ” 

“ What business is that of yours ?” 

“Because my agent will be at Marbourg in a 
fortnight. I am sure that your Highness and 
myself will come to an understanding, and that 
your Highness will restore me to your friendship. 
Permit me to go and give the orders for your 
departure.” 




/ 


120 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

The Baron smiled with the suavest deference. 
Otto gazed at his retreating figure, then, livid 
with rage, and shaking his clenched fists at him, 
he cried out : 

“ Tale Yontre ! ” in a loud voice three or four 
times. 

He sank back in an armchair awaiting day- 
light. 


X. 


“Your cousin Renaud is a fool, ” King Chris- 
tian had said to Hermann. No, Prince Renaud 
was not a fool, only a young man possessed of a 
great deal of good common sense and endowed 
with a vivid imagination, and who did precisely 
as he pleased, and whose conduct was determined 
by reasons into which the old king could not very 
well enter. 

Renaud’ s mother, a breath, a soul, one of 

Missel's transparent figures, had died in giving 

him birth. Then his father had followed her 

after three years of languid despair, mystically 

enamoured with the definite, toward the end 

ardently devoted to the occult sciences. The 

orphan’s childhood had been neglected, little 

cared for, and his studies had been capricious 

and incomplete. And this was why he had 

taken up with an extraordinary vivacity certain 

portions of history and poetry, in which the 

dream of the past was by no means the most 

simple, but the most gorgeous and tantalizing. 

Rome under Heliogabaus, Byzantium in the time 

121 


/ 

' « >v - V " - ' * - * 




122 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

of Theodora, Alexandria in the time of the 
Agnostic heresies, and generally all the writers of 
of the past, whose weakness seemed to be forever 
bringing forth something inexplicable. He liked 
all these things, this child of overstrung nerves, 
not from an acquired corruptness of mind, but by 
an inherited disposition of extreme sensibility. 
This child was born for chimeras. 

At eighteen years of age he decided to live 
according to his own liking. As it was not at all 
probable that Renaud would ever reign, the King, 
his uncle, washed his hands of him and ceased 
to be interested in or to direct him. The young 
prince was endowed with an obstinacy, against 
which no authority counted. 

His first idea had been to be a poet or an 
artist ; immediately and in the most natural man- 
ner in the world, he threw himself most enthusi- 
astically into the youngest and most extreme of 
all the schools, those which were generally com- 
posed of a master and one disciple. For several 
years all the adolescent symbolists and instru- 
mentalists ; all the false beginnings and the false 
magicians, the u neo-moyenageux,” all the invent- 
ors of new wrinkles and unaccustomed prosodies, 
all the occultists, the red-cross and the sadignes, 
and also the musicians of whom Wagner had been 




PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 123 

a forerunner, who wrote orchestral music, and 
who set “I have no good tobacco” to the noise 
of the forests and brooks ; and then again the 
aesthetic painters, the blue and yellow painters, 
those who drew badly, whose long angels were 
encircled by little clouds and who held lilies in 
their spirit hands ; and similarly the luminists 
and the shadowists ; those who see the landscapes 
as though through a heavy tapestry, and who, 
under pretext that all that is necessary in color- 
ing is to change the reflections, paint mauve 

• 

tights, and draw with sulphur-colored crayons ; 
all the jugglers of literature and art ; had their 
lodgings at Prince Renaud’s and dipped their 
hands into his credulous pocket. He gave some 
strange and puerile representations in his palace ; 
indifferent actors in white robes and violet-pow- 
dered hair were crucified for love of Satan, who 
was also Jesus, and in which the chorus of coach- 
men in green and the coachmen in blue sang alter- 
nately esoterical hymns before Theodora, the 
Searcher, who dreamed, her eyes fixed on the 
scorpion lying between her breasts. What vapors 
arose from the assorted vestments of these 
intrepid ones, their words rhyming to the music 
of the orchestra. And Prince Renaud walked 
through the city escorted by young men, gen- 



124 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

erally of the long haired order and poorly 
dressed, and who, under guise of their abstruse 
aestheticism, concealed the prudence of young 
notaries and the vanity of tenors. 

The Prince himself was perfectly sincere and 
innocent. His unsuspecting trust in new schools 
of poetry and art was more through ignorance, 
a nervous temperament which was almost morbid, 
and a spontaneous restlessness. The old styles 
offended him by their brevity, and because they 
appeared to him incapable of expressing all 
that he felt to be hidden in their subjects. He 
placed too much importance on this mystery, not 
taking into consideration that it is purely subjec- 
tive , personal to each of us, fugitive and change- 
able ; that the perception of this wonderful you 
know not what corresponds to the inferior 
moment of the artistic production, and that it 
disappears at the hour of execution, as^it is 
unutterable, but that elsewhere it reunites the 
fixed form with this form itself ; and, in fact, the 
most concise poems and works of art, when they 
are truly beautiful, are the ones which become 
in our thoughts the most mysterious, and the 
most fertile in dreams. 

The public looked on Prince Renaud as a 
maniac. But as he was very quiet and did no 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 125 

harm to anyone, they finally came to look upon 
him as harmless and passed his oddities by. 
Besides, on his side, he cared very little for what 
people thought of him ; he had acquired the 
right to be extravagant and nobody paid any 
more attention to him, and then, as he was a 
prince of the royal blood, he was allowed to 
live as he pleased. 

One day, simplicity of thought was revealed to 
him. He had made an excursion to the Isle of 
Cyprus, and had considered it the proper thing 
to carry a copy of the “ Odyssey” with him. 
But in a little while it seemed to him that Homer 
was artificial and full of faults. The literature 
itself, in its primitive periods, appeared to him 
the most foolish of illusions. Was it not wicked 
to spend his life in weaving vain representations 
of life? 

His regained simplicity manifested itself by 
a new eccentricity. He made this discovery, that 
the first duty of man was to exercise his body in 
order to strengthen its beauty. He resolved to 
give himself up to all out-door sports, and prin- 
cipally to those of the circus. He sought the 
society of clowns and gymnasts, and of some of 
them he made friends. But as his limbs were 
lazy and heavy, and as he found he would never 


126 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 

be more than a passable juggler, he was about to 
cut himself away from this caprice, as from the 
others, when he met, in a circus at Marbourg, the 
little equilibrist, Lolia Tosti. 

Her complexion was the color of amber, her 
limbs were long and shapely, her throat small, her 
forehead prominent, and her mouth naive and 
serious ; the limbs and body clothed in old rose- 
colored tights, she climbed swiftly up into the 
flies, where on a light trapeze without touching 
the cords, she swung slowly backward and for- 
ward. Then on a narrow movable stick she poised 
a great golden ball, and on this ball, without sup- 
port of any kind, she balanced herself ; she stood 
on one foot in the poise of a goddess ready to 
shoot forth into space from her planet pedestal. 
From this dizzy height she threw her childish 
kisses to right and left. Then — having tempted 
and realized the impossible — as though the laws 
of gravitation braved by this audacious child 
revenged themselves all at once, and like a jeal- 
ous Nemesis , punishing her for daring to make 
mortal an imponderable Olympic body — a long 
parabolical fall like a thunder-stricken “ Ycare,” 
she fell into the outspread net. 

Renaud adored her immediately ; and though 
he had thought himself forever disgusted with 


REGENT. 127 

art, writing, and painting, he adored her princi- 
pally because she recalled one of the figures in 
de Bothcelli’s “ Spring.” She resembled the one 
in the group of three women with interlaced 
fingers, who showed her delicate back and her 
ingenious and pensive profile. 

He came to see her several times. He put him- 
self in her way as she left the arena. Her 
angelic serenity ravished him. 

One evening in the circus stables he was pre- 
sented to Lolia’s parents by a clown friend of 
his. They were a very fat man and an equally 
fat woman, who had a look of great honesty on 
their broad faces. The fat man tendered a card 
to the Prince. The card read as follows : 

ANTONIO TOSTI, 

EX-ARTIST GYMNAST AND CLOWN, 

FATHER OF 

THE ILLUSTRIOUS EQUILIBRIST 

THE SIGNORINA LOLIA TOSTI. 

At that moment the manager came to say that 
the net was ready for Lolia’s exercises. 

The young girl came up to her mother and 
embraced her : 

“ Adieu, mamma ! ” 

And she made the sign of the cross before 
entering the arena. 






128 PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 

“A childish habit!” said Mme. Tosti to the 
Prince. 

Renaud questioned the_good lady and discov- 
ered that Lolia was very pious. Her dressing 
room was filled with images of the saints, and 
the bouquets which were thrown to her she 
was in the habit of presenting to the Blessed 
Virgin. 

“ And so wise, my lord ! ” 

But that was a necessity in her profession. 
The work of the other artists might perhaps 
suffer some infractions to the rules of health, but 
Lolia’ s work was more exacting. The serial 
equilibrist should avoid not only stoutness, which 
destroys the center of gravity, but over-fatigue, 
sudden flushes at the nape of the neck, or heavy 
griefs. 

Renaud was delighted to learn these things, 
thinking that his little friend’s art was, in fact, 
the most mysterious of all arts, because it was, 
in reality, a patient victory over matter, and by 
this struggle a woman’s body united itself almost 
with the “glorious body,” of which the theo- 
logians spoke. And it pleased him to think that 
the miracle of the acrobatic art, like the miracle 
of sanctity, had for its first condition absolute 
chastity, and that the strength which raised 




PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 129 

Therese d’ Avila above earth, or made a saint of 
Sister Marie Alacoque, was that which sustained 
in its giddy height in the flies the adorable form 
of Lolia. 

He gloried in the innocence of the young acro- 
bat. He had dined several times with M. and 
Mme. Tosti. His conversations with Lolia were 
charming in their childishness. She knew noth- 
ing, she was not sprightly ; she was only a little 
girl, who loved God and her good parents, and 
that was all. She related to him all she had 
seen in her journeys across two continents ; and 
she had seen nothing but those things appertain- 
ing to circus life. 

She lived but for her art. The greater part of 
her days was occupied with her work, for her 
exercises exacted a continual training. And the 
knowledge of her acrobatic excellence was a 
source of great pride to her. Her destiny seemed 
to him more beautiful than any of the others. 
She herself felt that she was a living poem. She 
despised the comedians whose role was to amuse 
men in feigning to be what they were not ; she de- 
spised the clowns even, who made themselves look 
ugly and who talked so everlastingly. Renaud 
learned from her conversation that she consid- 
ered herself the equal of princess and empress. 


130 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

And Renaud thought her estimate of herself very 
right. 

He rejoiced in seeing her so perfectly natural, 
and especially so strangely exceptional. He per- 
suaded himself that in loving her he returned to 
nature, he “simplified” it according to Tolstoi, 
with whom he had recently become infatuated, 
and to whom he strangely accommodated the 
evangelization of what remained in him of his 
sesthetical mania. And as he could not think of 
making Lolia his mistress, and besides, as he 
would not, since what he loved her most for was 
her purity, he resolved to marry her. He told 
himself that this would be an eminently good 
and reasonable act and worthy of a free man and 
of a child of God, and which did not appear to him 
the least unworthy of him and would not seem 
blameworthy except to narrow and gross minds. 

For a long time, from dislike of deception and 
yet by a supreme deception, he avoided in his 
manner and words all that bore the least resem- 
blance to written phrases and developments ; and 
his zeal in simplifying his actions was such that he 
applied himself to say only such things as would 
be understood by the smallest child or the most 
ignorant woman. He had never wooed Lolia, 
fearing to fall, in spite of himself, into a phrase- 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 131 

ology which he despised, and knowing that what 
he felt for the young girl was really unspeak- 
able. 

One evening when he found himself alone with 
her in the little dining room (the mother was in 
the kitchen, the father giving a lesson), Prince 
Renaud simply said : 

“Lolia, I love you ! ” 

The little goddess showed no surprise, but 
seemed perfectly contented. 

Renaud added : 

“ And you, do you love me ? ” 

She replied : 

“ Yes, my lord ! ” 

He continued : 

“ Do you love me, because I am a prince ? ” 

“ For that also, my lord ! ” 

“But if I were not would you not love me all 
the same ? ” 

“ Yes, my lord ! ” 

She made these two replies without any hesi- 
tation, and he saw that both had been equally 
sincere. 

He continued : 

“ Will you marry me ? ” 

“I am very willing to, my lord ! ” 

She said this without showing any surprise at 


132 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT \ 

his question, but with a little of an effort. He 
perceived this ! 

“ Does the thought annoy you ? ” 

She replied “ no,” but that nevertheless it was 
a sacrifice for her to renounce her art immedi- 
ately, and she knew how incompatible the mar- 
riage state was with it. She begged of him to 
give her six months in which to make a tour 
through Alfaine. After this tour, she would 
return to Marbourg and they would be married. 

Renaud consented to everything she proposed. 
It seemed to him right that she should be the 
one to impose her conditions. 

He embraced the little goddess with respect, and 
she awkwardly tendered him a young girl’s kiss. 

“ Above all,” he said, “do not say a word to 
your parents until your return.” 

When she returned, Renaud recognized with 
joy that the experiment of joint absence had left 
their love intact. It was arranged between them 
that Lolia should appear in the circus for a fare- 
well. She performed in a marvelous manner, 
her audacity bordered on folly, and she attained 
in her supple struggle against gravity the ex- 
treme limits of possibility. And her fall into 
the net had in it the suicide of love, of an irre- 
vocable fall into some gulf. . . . 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT \ 


133 





When she re-entered her dressing room, the 
little acrobat wept for a long time. 

“Do you regret ? ” asked the prince. 

“ No, my lord, because I love you.” 

And smiling amid her tears, she said : 


“ Did I do well, my lord ? I wanted to perform 
better to-day than ever, to have more of a sacri- 
fice to offer to you. ...” 



/ 


XL 

In the meantime Prince Hermann had been 
working very faithfully for the welfare of his 
people. 

Without taking into consideration the evils 
from which Alfaine suffered in common with 
other European countries, she was the prey of a 
growing dissatisfaction which was principally 
caused by the incongruity of her political insti- 
tutions and her new social and industrial con- 
dition. 

Alfaine, of all European powers besides Rus- 
sia, had preserved the rale of an absolute mon- 
archy. The ministers were but clerks to the 
executive power ; as the legislative power was 
exercised sovereignly by the king, assisted by 
three bodies, whose members were nominated by 
him : the Cabinet, the King's Council, and the 
Senate. 

By the order of things these three bodies were 
composed almost entirely of the noble descend- 
ants of the ancient lords of the land, of finan- 
ciers, and large manufacturers ; besides, the great 

134 




PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 135 

development of Alfaine industries had in forty 
years created an immense working class ; greater 
by reason of its numbers and wants ; and then 
the people found themselves ruled by men whose 
interests were diametrically opposed to theirs. 
Were it even endowed with all the virtues (and 
it was not, by any means), this aristocracy of 
riches would be more a subject of suspicion to 
the proletariat than an aristocracy by birth, and 
in consequence seemed to them more insupport- 
able. The revolt against real injustice was ag- 
gravated in the workingmen’s minds by the 
apprehension of an indefinable possible injustice, 
and from the feeling of what was essentially 
absurd in this political organization of a great 
industrial country. 

Hermann’s sympathies were with the working 
class, which latter was sustained by the middle 
classes and a great part of the rural population. 
Unfortunately, though he was supposed to be an 
absolute monarch, he could not, in reality, govern 
contrary to the three bodies who existed by his 
will ; he could not change their spirit, nor com- 
municate to them the ardor of renunciation which 
was working within him. Only one remedy 
remained to him then, and that was the estab- 
lishment of a representative rule. 


1 36 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

Powerless as he felt himself to be in unit- 
ing against their wishes the instruments of his 
absolutism, Hermann found himself no less 
impotent to break them with one blow. In our 
Occident and in the epoch in which we live pure 
aristocracy exists but in theory. Doubtless the 
absence of a constitution seemed to give Her- 
mann the right to grant a constitution directly to 
his people ; and the absolute power implied ap- 
parently, to him who withheld it, the liberty to 
revoke it and to decree its suppression and 
limitation ; but Hermann felt that this was for- 
bidden him, and that all he would dare attempt 
would be to employ the three bodies in his 
designs by greatly augmenting their powers. 

He therefore called together a consultative 
assembly of the members of the Cabinet, the 
Royal Council, and the Senate, to whom he added 
some men well-known for their liberalism — law- 
yers, journalists, and judges ; and he submitted 
to this assembly a plan of a parliamentary con- 
stitution, which should confer certain powers on 
a senate named by the King, and a chamber of 
representatives elected by the land owners, the 
electoral vote to be given to all who paid a tax of 
ten florins. 

And that the people could not possibly doubt 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 137 

his sincerity, he chose for Prime Minister Ath- 
sauase Hellborn, a very popular lawyer, principal 
editor of the opposition journal, and directed 
him to plead the plan before the assembly. 

In his first interview with Hermann, Athsauase 
Hellborn took an excellent stand. He thanked 
the Prince for liis confidence, set forth his con- 
ditions, bound himself to accept the principles 
of the representatives elected by rent payers, 
swore, besides, that everything would go smoothly 
and that he would attend strictly to his business. 
He was sympathetic, cordial, the benevolence of 
a philanthropist overspreading his ruddy face. 
Hermann decided that he must be a very brave 
man, but that he talked too much and that he 
was lacking a little, perhaps, in thought. 

The new minister was filled at first with great 
enthusiasm. He succeeded in passing the vote 
on the plan by a small majority. 

Then all at once came the amendments. 

One fine day Hellborn declared to the Prince 
that upon reflection they had decided that the 
electoral rental had been fixed at too low a figure 
in the original plan. He proposed to raise it to 
twenty-five florins. He still spoke of justice, lib- 
erty, and equality. But Hermann received the 
impression that these words, by which the advo- 


138 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

cate had lived, to which he owed his future and 
his fame, were but words to him, and that he 
pronounced them without feeling them, without 
understanding them, and that his political beliefs 
were to him what religious beliefs were to a 
great number of worldly people. And the recog- 
nition of this hypocrisy, so vile and so much 
more poisonous than the hypocrisy of the court- 
iers of his father’s cabinet, was very painful to 
him. He had mistaken his man. 

Another time Hellborn explained to the Prince 
that they ran the risk of losing all in trying to 
gain all; that great changes were not so quickly 
accomplished ; and that he was of opinion that 
the third at least of the Chamber of Repre- 
sentatives should be named by the King. And 
in the course of the conversation he affected the 
airs of a superior man ; saying, with a smile, that 
there were inevitable injustices, that it is better to 
take your own part, that the people were like 
children — incapable of governing themselves, 
that it was necessary to amuse them by promises, 
and besides : “ tout cela durera Men autant que 
nous. . .” Hermann was greatly scandalized 
to hear this reputable bourgeois treat these ques- 
tions so lightly in which he, a prince, had put his 
whole heart. 

Thus, from day to day, Hellborn lost ground 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 139 

in the Assembly ; lie granted amendment after 
amendment, leaving hardly anything of the orig- 
inal project, which it was his mission to uphold. 
And notwithstanding, he beamed with satisfac- 
tion in his new state, leading a gay life, supping 
a great deal, and having a prominent actress for 
his mistress. 

It was the old, silly story. 

What had brought about this conversion of the 
democratic advocate was the hand-shaking in 
the lobbies, the good-fellowship of the noblemen, 
leaders of the Right, whom he would never have 
imagined to be si bons (/argons. He had always 
made, as I said before, energetic resistance ; the 
conservative party had felt itself to be lost ; 
fearing, if it resisted, the dissolution of the 
Assembly and the direct concession of a charter 
by Prince Hermann. 

It was about this time that Hellborn received 
an invitation from the Countess de Moellnitz, one 
of the most elegant and spiritual ladies of the 
Marbourg aristocracy, to come and visit her. 

She had said to her husband : ‘ ‘ Let me manage 
him.” Moellnitz had allowed her to manage him 
to the bitter end. 

Hellborne became one of the most frequent 
visitors to the house. He experienced an inex- 


140 PRINCE HERMANN \ PEG ENT. 

pressible joy in flinging this fact in the faces of 
all the nobility of the kingdom. He called the 
Count, son cher ami. 

One evening when he was in very close conver- 
sation with the Countess, in the little salon in 
which she generally received, he saw, reflected in 
the long mirror, Moellnitz come into the grand 
salon, cross it, hesitate an instant, and then go 
out again, with an indifferent air. 

He was persuaded that the Count had not seen 
him. To suspect him of complicity would have 
been too utterly absurd. Moellnitz was an honest 
man, of proven bravery. 

It is true, on the other hand, that the Count de 
Moellnitz believed with all his heart that the 
safety of the kingdom demanded the conserva- 
tion of all the old institutions, and that to 
overthrow the designs of the Prince and his 
minister there was no sacrifice to which he would 
not lend himself. Had he seen anything in the 
mirror? Was he ignorant of the friendship 
between his wife and Hellborn, or having, by an 
heroic effort, immolated his honor as a husband 
to his duty of true royalist, did he bleed secretly 
and silently ? This was something which no one 
would know. The soul of a satisfied Chamber- 
lain might be sublime in its own fashion. 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 141 

At least if Moellnitz sacrificed himself it was 
not in vain. The plan voted for by the Assembly 
instituted a senate, formed by all the members of 
the old bodies, and a chamber of representatives, 
of which two-thirds alone had been elected, and 
by an excessively restricted suffrage, as the rents 
had been raised to forty florins. 

The people made up their minds that they had 
been made fools of. New strikes broke out. 
The workingmen called forth a great manifes- 
tation for the 1st of October, the object of which 
was to reclaim universal suffrage. They forced 
the elections in the future chamber to be held 
solely on this question. 


“ I owe it to yon, M. le Ministre, to make 
you acquainted with my intentions. I have 
issued the special manifesto. The route shall 
be fixed in advance, and in such a way that 
the procession cannot be interrupted except 
at a few points, and last for three or four hours 
only. This is easy to regulate. Within cer- 
tain limits every liberty shall be given to the 
people to express their wishes publicly, always 
on the condition of not uttering a single se- 
ditious cry.” 

“The cry of 6 Yive le suffrage universel ! 5 shall 
that be considered as a seditious cry?” asked 
Hellborn. 

“No,” replied the Prince. 

“Will your Royal Highness permit the mani- 
festants to carry the black flag through the 
streets ? ” 

“No, I cannot recognize the black flag; that 
will give the meeting an air of revolt. If the 
workingmen persist in carrying the black flag 
then my agents must take it from them. For the 

142 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 143 

rest, I repeat, we are pleased to grant them entire 
liberty.’ ’ 

Hellborn put on an air of deep thought. 

“I regret to confess to your Royal Highness 
that I am much less hopeful than yourself. For 
the first time ten or twelve thousand workingmen 
will find themselves united together. They will 
feel their strength. They will be very much 
excited. Much more so, for the reason that a 
great majority of the population are on their 
side. Andotia Latanief will be at their head, 
and you know her influence over the crowd. 
This woman is incorrigible. She is a revolu- 
tionary maniac. She recompenses your Royal 
Highness badly for all your generosity toward 
her.” 

“ I did not pardon Andotia from any idea that 
she would be thankful to me.” 

‘■Well, there will be no one to suppress the 
revolt if we leave the field free to them ; they 
will be intoxicated with their numbers and an 
uprising will come out of this overheated mass.” 
“ The surest way of provoking this riot is to 
forbid the manifestation.” 

“ The surest way of putting down the riot is to 
prevent it. It was thus they always treated us.” 
“You?” 


144 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 


“ Mon Dieu , my lord, since the word has 
escaped me I need no longer hide the fact that I 
took part in several riots in my youth. Your 
father, the King, stopped us before we ever had 
a chance to commence. He was always suc- 
cessful too.” 

“Then, in your way of thinking, it is neces- 
sary ? ? ’ 

“To prevent the manifestants from reuniting. 
Make them march in companies.” 

“You think they will allow this to be done ? ” 
“No, Ido not. There will probably be some 
broken heads.” 

“ Probably ?” 

“Certainly, if you are willing. But without 
that you will be obliged to break a great many 
more later on.” 

“Perhaps, also, it will not be necessary to 
break any at all. Confess that this would be 
the better way. Why cannot the manifestation 
be pacific? The most of these people are not 
wicked ; if you let them cry out at the top of 
their voices, that seems to relieve them, and it 
even turns them from wrongdoing. Why not?” 
“ Because that is impossible.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because that has never been seen.” 

\ 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


145 


“ That has never been seen because no one ever 
wished to see it. Listen, my dear Hellborn. In 
reality what the people have resolved to do does 
not seem to me illegal. I have held forth great 
hopes to them. They have been deceived, by no 
fault of mine, as you know. I am still sickened 
by the duplicities, the egotisms, the cowardice of 
the last assembly. The workingmen, whom the 
hope of political reform caused to have patience, 
and who have been thrown back into their old 
condition, these, above all others, who solely on 
account of that hope had consented not to pro- 
long the strikes, perceive that they have been 
duped. The strikes have broken out again. This 
does not astonish me, nor does it make me indig- 
nant. These men, deprived of their rights, now 
clamor for universal suffrage. I do not say that 
we must give it to them at once, for I know the 
dangers. And, moreover, when they no longer 
believe in the divine right, universal suffrage 
will remain, perhaps, the last possible source 
of authority ; a troubled source, but the only 
one. And if they ask too much it is be- 
cause they have been given too little. I am king 
of all my subjects, rich or poor. It is the right 
of peaceful remonstrance to this one or that one 
which I wish to defend and which I will defend.’ ’ 




146 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

Hermann spoke calmly and modestly. The 
more he felt that his speech appeared strange in 
the mouth of a prince, the more he forced him- 
self to make it in accordance with the most entire 
simplicity and the most tranquil certainty. 

“My lord,” said Hellborn, “I have the honor 
of tendering my resignation to your Royal High- 
ness.” 

X 

Hermann rose to his feet. 

4 4 So be it. It is astonishing how much trouble 
I have in keeping my ministers. It is because I 
do things which are too simple for them.” 

He commenced to walk up and down, his head 
lowered, and his hands behind his back. 

44 1 have learned a great deal in these last few 
months. What renders the iniquities in the 
political and social condition difficult to redress 
is that everybody in this matter is at once judge 
and client. . . What I have just said has noth- 
ing original in it, has it? The reparation of these 
iniquities is called for by those who suffer, and 
by a part of those who profit by them. Besides, 
the first ask and expect too much. And as to 
the second, they can never be entirely sincere. 
There will always be, even among the best of 
them, an abyss between their thoughts and their 
acts. Nearly all the revolutionary theorists 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 147 

belong to the bourgeoisie , and some of them to 
the rich bourgeoisie. If all these would conform 
their conduct to their doctrines, if they lived 
soberly, if they consecrated their superfluity to 
the relief of misery, of which they make such 
pretensions of commiserating, the solution of the 
social question would already have made great 
strides. But no ! Being privileged, they con- 
tinue to jealously guard their privileges. In all 
countries we see that the majority of the leaders 
of the democracy are of the economical middle 
class of men at leisure, and that they do not love 
the people ; they find them displeasing to them ; 
that they do not go near them except on club 
days or in election times, and that they do not 
even give them charity under pretense that it is 
not charity, but the reform of the institutions 
which will lead to the extinction of all misery. 
Hypocrisy ! . . . Hypocrisy ! . . . Alas, it 
is but to give the tenth of your income ; but even 
among the rich and the less hardened, who gives 
his tenth ? Nobody does his duty. I am going 
to try and do mine.” 

And stopping before Hellborn he continued : 

“ I accept your resignation, monsieur ; I have 
been expecting it and you are doing right to offer 
it to me. Your conduct in the discussion of the 


148 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

proposed reforms lias embroiled you with your 

friends of the old opposition without leading you 

% 

altogether into the conservative ranks. But you 
felt that it would be easier to reconcile yourself 
with these and to become more decidedly their 
man in saving society. I will allow you to 
tell them that it was I who did not wish you to 
save it.” 

Hellborn, without any visible embarrassment, 
smiled with the air of a superior man. 

“ Your Royal Highness expressed the noblest 
sentiments but a few moments ago. But what 
would you have, my lord ? Before resolving 
upon certain sacrifices one would at least wish to 
be sure that they would be efficacious. And 
then — your Highness will pei’mit me to speak 
freely? If perhaps we hesitate, we privileged 
ones . . . the bourgeoise , as you say, have sacri- 
ficed our privileges. You yourself, my lord, are 
you sure, absolutely sure, that you would consent, 
supposing such a thing possible, to sacrifice 
yours ? I do not speak of the absolute power, 
which is to-day but a name and which you have 
already renounced ” 

“ You speak of the crown '( ” said Hermann. 

He reflected a moment and then added 
gravely : 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


149 


“Hellborn, I am indifferent to everything, 
even the crown.” 

And changing his tone he added quickly : 

“ Do not repeat what I have said, at least. 
But what matters it ; they would not believe 
you.” 

Hellborn retired completely dumfounded. 


1 




A 


XIII. 

From the day on which the King his father 
had delegated his power to him, Hermann, be- 
yond the indispensable relations with his minis- 
ters and a few politicians, had lived in a profound 
solitude. By this means he was not distracted 
from his dream, and he amassed in himself, by 
the continuance of his effort and his meditation, 
a reserve of energy equal to the daring of his 
design. Twice only he had gone secretly and 
passed a few hours with Frida in the little house 
in the woods. He had held himself aloof from 
Wilhelmine; he went at the usual times to the 
Princess’ apartments, but she had questioned him 
vainly ; told him of her doubts and her uncertain- 
ties ; he positively refused to enter into any dis- 
cussion of public affairs with her. 

He had cut down to absolute necessity the 
palace ceremonials, suppressed the receptions 
and the fetes , and turned into the public relief 
fund of Marbourg the five hundred thousand 
francs thus economized. 

At first his gifts had strengthened his popu- 

150 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT \ 151 

larity ; but lie liad not known how to retain it, 
never showing himself in public to the people 
from a feeling of prudery, because he looked 
upon the seeking after laudation as unworthy of 
a wise man, and because these acclamations, of 
which he was certain in advance, seemed to him 
out of proportion with the little merit which he 
felt he deserved. 

This absenteeism had made the people cold 
toward him, as they could not divine the cause 
for it. Then, at the time that the three bodies 
were cutting away, article by article, the pro- 
posed constitutional law, popular indignation 
had accused the Prince of being the secret 
accomplice of this comedy. And afterward, 
when they learned that he tolerated the mani- 
festation, there were to be found those who said 
that the Prince was setting a trap for the people. 

Hermann knew all this. He had foreseen it. 
He resigned himself to this inevitable folly and 
ingratitude. 

Besides the defiance of one part of the crowd, 
Hermann felt growing against him, as unman- 
ageable as the egotism and like the instinct of 
conservatism and propriety, the opposition of the 
privileged class. 

All the same, he kept the even tenor of his 


152 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

way. Nothing could make him recoil. Not long 
ago he had been looked upon as weak and want- 
ing in action, by the excess, perhaps, of his 
sensibility or critical spirit. At that time he 
was not placed over others and his indecisions 
were of little consequence, but at present, when 
his sentiments were to be known by determi- 
nations, which themselves were to be invested 
with public consequences, he took to himself a 
will — a strong, immovable will, whose solitary 
and uninterrupted effort had put him little by 
little into that disposition of soul where, by dint 
of thinking that one should march against the 
obstacle and overcome it, the perception even of 
the obstacle was abolished, and one ended by 
doing sublime or foolish actions. To be brief, 
Hermann lived in a species of moral somnam- 
bulism. 

But, the lucidity of his mind remaining per- 
fect, he fixed himself the conditions under which 
this popular manifestation should be allowed to 
take place. The procession should form upon 
the Place des Maronniers, going along the 
quays of the right bank, to the Place des Trois 
Hois, following the line of the principal boule- 
vards and dispersing at the crossroads of the 
Croix Bleue. Along this route he designated the 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT \ 153 

different posts to be occupied by the troops, the 
edifices, barracks, banks, and royal libraries on 
the route, and the courtyards in which the reserves 
of cavalry and infantry should hold themselves 
in readiness to come forth at the first symptoms 
of an outbreak. He took great care that all 
these preparations for repression should be 
entirely concealed. He applied himself to 
arranging everything, and gave the most precise 
instructions in case the manifestation should 
become seditious ; three summons should be 
given, far apart. If these should prove futile, a 
very slow charge of cavalry was to be made. But 
under no circumstances were the cavalry to 
unsheathe their swords, nor the foot soldiers to 
fire, until the order was given by Hermann. 
Telegraph wires connected his study with the 
Governor General of Marbourg’s private office, 
situated at the other end of the palace, and with 
all the posts and depots for troops. Thus, what- 
ever happened, one or two minutes could only 
pass between the transmission of the news and 
the orders of the Prince. He would thus have 
the absolute direction of the day, as he wished 
to carry all the responsibility. The old Gen- 
eral de Kersten, Governor of Marbourg, who 
knew nothing outside of his province, sub- 


154 PRINCE HERMANN , RECENT. 

mitted to all without reflection, or perhaps with 
this reflection, that the Prince was a “pekin,” 
full of outlandish ideas ; that he must let him go 
his own gait, because he was a prince ; but that 
sooner or later he would recognize the necessity 
of going back to the traditional practices of the 
government and the police. 


XIV. 



A hot sun, almost a summer's sun, brightened 
this morning of the 1st of October. Not a cloud 
was in the sky ; there was no danger of rain, so 
fatal to marching in the streets, a good help to 
the government in the time of a riot. Hermann 
rejoiced ; the experiment which he was about to 
make would thus be more decisive. 

He was alone in his private room. An orderly 
was in the adjoining room near the telephone. 
The first news had been very reassuring. More 
than ten thousand workingmen had assembled 
on the Place des Maronniers without any signs 
of disorder, and rapidly formed inline. Slowly, 
in close ranks, the immense procession started. 

A great silence enveloped the palace. No 
sound came up, either from the boulevards or 
the still deserted quays. Hermann felt uneasy. 
He could hear the noise, as of a distant turbu- 
lent sea, caused by the murmurs of this vast 
crowd, which was coming nearer and nearer, 
and would be so plainly heard in a short 
time. 




155 


156 PRINCE HERMANN, \ REGENT. 

The silence weighed upon him like the silence pre- 
ceding the storm. He walked backward and for- 
ward nervously. At times liis eyes met the 
motionless and somber glance of the portrait of 
Hermann II. It seemed to him that an ironical 
and contemptuous smile spread over the lips of 
his terrible ancestor. Then, when he looked him 
straight in the face, the illustrious butcher did not 
smile. With a hostile attention the Prince exam- 
ined this sad and yet hard mouth, this forehead 
so strangely narrowed at the temples, these 
cadaverous jaws. And he experienced a feeling 
of pride and defiance in thinking that what he was 
doing would be detestable and unintelligible to 
this sinister ancestor, if he could lift up the tiles 
in the Carmelite chapel, where he had reposed for 
five hundred years, and tell him that he was the 
first who dared to break a venerable tradition, 
and, being the son of a king, had given the lie, in 
the name of human pity, to the pitiless and false 
wisdom of a whole line of kings. 

Then he seated himself, and taking a letter 
from his pocket he unfolded it and read the last 
page with the look of a devotee who was medi- 
tating on a sacred text. 

“ Yes, I am going to think of you, not more 
than on other days, but with more agony. I 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 157 

know too well the dreadful counsels for pru- 
dence which the politicians will give you, but 
you will not listen to them, will you ? There 
are, perhaps, among all these poor people some 
wicked ones and many ignorant ones ; but more 
than anything else, there are unhappy ones. Be 
not afraid of these, you, their friend. See that 
they are not provoked by the exhibition of all 
the preparations for their repression before you 
know whether there will be anything to re- 
press, and I swear to you that they will do no 
wrong. The heart of the crowd beats generously 
for the one who treats them with generosity. 
Chain them to you by the confidence you show 
in them. Think, then, my dear lord ! Are any 
of Jesus’ poor, those that are good and suffer 
unjustly, to be killed by you, by you, their 
natural protector, and that for having cried out 
aloud their misery? No, I cannot support this 
thought. . . In the name of our love, do not 
shed the blood of these unhappy ones ! ” 

“Ah! Frida! Little Frida! . . . This is 
my viaticum,” murmured Hermann. 

He found himself comforted, confident once 
more, as if these innocent and loving words had 
spread a feeling of infinitely sweet certainty over 
him. 


XV. 


“Can I have a word with thee ? ” 

Otto entered, visibly agitated, but his eternal 
smile seemed congealed under his red mus- 
tache. 

“The moment,” said Hermann, “is not per- 
haps the best chosen.” 

“ That is because one cannot see thee when one 
wishes to. And then, what I have to say to thee 
leaves me no choice of time.” 

“But to-day! Another day! As for me I 

am very tranquil as I am. More than that ” 

“Yes, though thou dost not do great things to 
reassure peaceful people, those without reproach, 
I know thine ideas. Thou tigurest to thyself 
that thy twelve or fifteen thousand workmen are 
going to make their little march in a genteel man- 
ner, and that there is not one ass among them to 
rile them up and that they will remain quiet. . . 
I doubt this, but I am open to reason.” 

“We will see!” 

“ It is very simple. Of two things one is sure 
to happen. Either that thou seest justly (which 

158 







V 






PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


159 







is possible) and all will pass quietly, or that 
thou art mistaken, and then thou wilt do as 
others have done before thee ; thou wilt defend 
thyself . . . only it will be a little late then. 
There will be a few more broken heads than if 
thou hadst defended thyself sooner, but it will 
come to the same thing in the end. We will 
have the last word this time and a few others 
besides, because, provisionally, we are the strong 
est. I say we and our good nobility and our 
delicious bourgeoisie. Evidently we will not 
have it for a long time to come, but the machine 
will last longer than we will. I do not ask more 

for myself.” 

“ Brave heart ! ” 

“I am not given to sentiment. . . But let us 
speak of my business. I have already spoken to 
thee on the subject some days ago. . .” 

“ This concession of the mines ? ” 

“ Yes. Baron Issachar will pay well for it.” 

“ That is to say ? ” 

“ Mon Dieu, it is clear enough.” 

“ Well, what? He will offer me money ? ” 

“I do not say that. . . Thou hast the right 
to ignore him. . . In all things there is a 
nay. . . but times are hard. . . Crowned 
heads lack pocket money. . . And I think that 




160 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT \ 

Willi elmine herself will not be sorry ; she will 
have something for her charities. Then . . . 
three millions are good to take. . .” 

“It is useless to continue, and thou knowest 
it.” 

“Why?” 

“ Thou dost not understand ? ” 

“No.” 

“That is just ; thou canst not understand,” said 
Hermann, shrugging his shoulders. 

Otto’s forehead became wrinkled and his eyes 
wicked. 

“But, Hermann, this is not serious? What 
hast thou against the Baron ? ” 

“I have nothing against the Baron. I do not 
wish to do it, that is all. T think in this affair 
that the proprietors of the land have a prior 

right, and as they present guarantees ” 

“Less than the Baron. . . He owns five thou- 
sand acres of forest land in Alfaine ; we owe the 

tramways of Marbourg to him ” 

“ That is to say that he owes them to us. Un- 
fortunately, for my part, I think that there are 
plenty of other means of using his half a mil- 
lion ; and it is not the time — the social question 
has not reached the point or stage that it can 
grant privileges to those who are already too 



5 > 





PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 161 

rich. My reasons are very plain, as thou 
seest.” 

“ I could reply to thee, and sensibly, too, but 
I would only waste my time. To-day thou art 
resolved. . . We will speak on this subject again. 
Only listen to me. Thou puttest me in a false 
position in regard to the Baron. I gave him 
reason to hope. In any case it seems to me 
that we owe him a little compensation. 

“ A compensation for what ? ” 

“ For what thy refusal makes him lose. 

“ What does my refusal make him lose?” 

“ Damn it ! What he asks of thee.” 

“ Thou hast a logic of thine own ! ” 

“Well, to be frank, I find myself somewhat 
entangled with Issachar. . . And when thou 
alone canst free me from mine embarrassments it 
seems to me that thou mightst do something for 
him which would make him patient, and above 
all prove to him that I am interested in him. . . 
Remember that the Baron is a power and that it 
would be unwise to make an enemy of him. . . 
All that is necessary is a small mark of esteem, 
and which will not cost thee a cent.” 

“ Well, what is it? ” 

Otto said, with as negligent an air as he could 
command : 



162 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

“ Tlie ribbon of tlie Blue Eagle, for in- 
stance.” 

‘ ‘ The ribbon of the Blue Eagle to the Baron 
Issachar ? ” 

‘ ‘ Mon Dieu ! ” 

“ Name me his titles.” 

“ But . . . his money ” 

“ Is that all? ” 

“What more dost thou want? Dost thou 
refuse again ? ’ ’ 

“Ah? Yes, I refuse.” 

“Thou art not amiable. I think thou art 
more. . . What hast thou against me? ” 

“ Thou wisliest to know very much ? ” 

“ Yes, I am anxious to learn.” 

“ Thou persistest ?” 

“Yes, continue.” 

“Well, then! The very thought of being 
thine accomplice in this thing tills me with hor- 
ror. Dost thou wish to know why ? Why thou 
comest begging for this poor Baron Issachar? 
It is because this Jew holds thee by the throat, 
thou, the second Prince of the royal blood. It is 
because thou owest him more than five million sand 
that he thinks that the hour has come in which 
to squeeze thee. It is because this very morning 
thou didst receive a visit from his man of busi- 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT, 163 

ness, who brought thee his last summons. The 
ungrateful one no longer remembers that he has 
been thy dearest friend ; that in return for the 
honor which thou didst him in being his guest 
thou wast content to accept the modest loan of 
two thousand louis every evening at baccarat. . . 
Yes, it was ruled like a piece of music ; this was 
your recompense for putting yourself out, and you 
only discommoded yourself for that considera- 
tion. He now finds that the price was too high, 
especially when he added to it the other little 
sums which thou didst deign to borrow from him. 
He finds that the honor of thy friendship is not 
worth all this and he puts thee in a way of pay- 
ing him, in no matter what manner. . . Ah, yes ! 
thou art a pretty prince ! Thy poor wife, who 
during all this time lives like a recluse, crushed 
under shame and sorrow, sobbed bitterly the 
other day in speaking to me of thee. Thou hast 
so foolishly and so brutally abused her that thou 
art at present reduced to searching for eccentric 
sensations. Thou has commenced to descend to 
the muddy skirts of the women of the streets or 
the servants, and thou disguisest thyself to run 
riot in low tavern adventures. Then, even this 
is not enough. . . one of the occupations of the 
police is to protect thee. . . No, no, I will not 


164 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


pay thy Jew money for thy vices. Royalty is not 
highway robbery ! ” 

These phrases fell upon Otto like blows. He 
was livid ; the insolence fell from his smile for 
one moment, his lip trembled a little, but he 
restrained himself. 

“*What wouldst thou have — when one is 
Avearied ? And thou knowest how I am wearied ! 
I warn you first that all thou hast just said is 
very much exaggerated. But since thou knowest 
all and more than all there is in it, help me to 
get out of it ! Thou canst well see that if I 
talked it Avas because I could not do otherwise. 
. . . What Avouldst thou have me do ? ” • 

“ Settle thine affairs. Sell a chateau. That of 
Grotenback is thine OAvn personal property.” 

“ Covered with mortgages, my dear Hermann.” 
“Make thyself the intimate friend of another 
banker.” 

“Then thou wilt do nothing for me? See Iioav 
patient I have been. . . After all, I am thy 
brother ; and if this fact gives thee certain 
rights to say disagreeable things to me, it also 
creates, it seems to me, certain duties.” 

“Ah! Avhat difference does that make that I 
am thy brother? What does that signify be- 
tween us? We have never loved each other! 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT . 165 

We have hardly known each other! Do I not 
know, besides, that thou hatest me ? ” 

“I?” 

At this moment a great, confused noise came 
up from the street. It was doubtless some 
belated bands, who were hurrying to the rendez- 
vous of the manifestants. The two Princes lis- 
tened as the cries became more distinct. 

44 Dost thou hear what those people are crying 
out ? ” asked Hermann. 

44 No.” 

44 They are crying : 4 Vive le Prince Otto ! ’ ” 

44 Hold ! that is good, by my faith ! ” 

As soon as Otto had decided that there was 
nothing to be gained from his brother, he resumed 
his natural attitude ; and swaying his great body 
from side to side, his hands buried in his pockets, 
he said : 

44 What can Ido?... That is not a seditious 
cry. If I were the elder and you the younger, 
they would cry : 4 Vive le Prince Hermann ! ’ 

That is as clear as day.” 

44 Dost thou know who hast paid them ? ” 

44 It is certainly not me. . . I am not rich 
enough for that.” 

44 It was thee ! And it was thee who caused to 
be posted all over the city placards, which I 


166 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

ordered torn down this morning, in which I am 
denounced to the people as playing a double 
role, liberal in my public declarations, but 
secretly allied to the reaction. . . Do not deny 
it ; I have the proofs.” 

“ What proofs ? Reports of overzealous police 
officers. Thou tellest me all this to get rid of 
doing me this little service which I have asked 
of thee ? Thou art wrong, Hermann ; I assure 
thee, thou art wrong ! ” 

“ Listen,” said Hermann. 

It was the telephone bell ringing in the next 
room. Two or three minutes passed by arid the 
two Princes listened in silence. The orderly 
entered, and, perceiving Otto, seemed to hesi- 
tate. 

“ You can speak,” said Hermann. 

The man repeated in the monotonous, imper- 
sonal tone of an officer delivering a report the 
communication which he had just received. 

“The manifestation had started about half- 
past ten o'clock. Twelve thousand men and a 
few women and children. Everything was very 
quiet at first, when, all at once, at an angle of 
the Quay St. Pierre and the Rue des Tanneurs, 
Andotia Latanief had suddenly unfurled the 
black flag. ’ 5 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 167 

44 Again that woman ! ” murmured Hermann. 

Otto’s face brightened. 

The officer continued : 

4 4 It was taken from her. There were a few 
blows exchanged. Nothing serious. Andotia, 
who resisted, was led to the station with three 
or four riotous workingmen. The crowd con- 
tinued on its way, outwardly quiet, almost in 
silence. The Governor General of Marbourg said 
this silence promised nothing good. He said 
he thought they could, without much trouble, 
divide and turn back the manifestants at the 
moment when they turned into the circle of the 
St. Gabriel Bridge. What are your Royal 
Highness’ orders?” 

4 4 The same. Let them continue on their 
way.” 

The officer retired. 

But Hermann was no longer so tranquil. 
Always this Andotia ! She was becoming 
strangely cumbersome, this saint ! It was true 
that the incident was foreseen, and there would 
doubtless be no other. Why was it, then, that 
Hermann, so full of confidence a short time ago, 
was now so filled with an agony of terror ? 

He turned his back to his brother, but felt 
behind him the great nose, the deep sunken 


168 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

eyes, all Otto’s personality wickedly railing at 
him. He turned with a brusque movement. 

“What hast thou to smile at ? ” 

“I think,” said Otto, “ that it would be better 
for thee to finish whether thou wilt or not where 
thou shouldst have commenced. Indeed, I will 
have the exquisite pleasure of seeing thee fire 
upon these people in whom thou hast so 
much confidence and whom thou lovest. so 
dearly.” 

“ What thou art saying is abominable.” 

“In what way? I am only stating the truth. 
Who dost thou hope to fool? The sentiments 
which thou givest out are contradictory to thy 
functions. If thou really provest them, or if 
thou art capable of following them to the end, 
thou wilt have but one thing to do, to go or thou 
wilt never go. Thou wilt remain to defend us 
by gunshots, if necessary, and thou wilt mas- 
sacre poor devils, among whom there will cer- 
tainly be some brave men, because thou canst 
not do otherwise. To see thee floundering in 
these contradictions will be my first revenge — I, 
who do not make phrases and who do not pride 
myself upon my justice nor my pity. And 
then ... I will wait. . . I am speaking very 
quietly to thee, but thou didst say things to me 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 169 

a little while ago that I will permit no one to 
say to me, not even thee . . . and I warn thee 
that I will remember them.” 

“Now,” said Hermann, “I recognize my 
brother.” 


XVI. 


Princess Wiliielmine entered the royal study 
without announcement, holding little Wilhelm in 
her arms and followed by the governess. 

“ Hermann! Hermann!” she cried, “ do you 
know what they have done to your son ?” 

Her look was tragic; even her usually perfect 
tresses were disarranged ; but, for all that, she 
still retained her grand air, the air of the Alten- 
bourgs. And this was why, after Hermann had 
found that the child was unhurt, that he asked 
quietly : 

“What is the matter? What has happened 
him ? ” 

“ The matter is that the strikers have been 
throwing stones at your child’s carriage, that 
they might have killed him had it not been for 
the fleetness of his horses, and this I think is 
something to cause you reflection.” 

“But,” said the Prince, “he has suffered no 
harm ? Neither has his governess. Perhaps 
Mine, de Scliliefen has exaggerated matters a 
little.” 


170 

\ 






PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


Ill 


He questioned the governess. She had set out 
in the morning to take Wilhelm to visit the King, 
his grandfather. But meeting with some bands 
on their way to join the great procession, the old 
lady, becoming frightened, had ordered the coach- 
man to return to the palace. The workingmen, 
recognizing the Court livery, had uttered menac- 
ing cries and thrown stones at the carriage. It 
was a miracle that neither she nor the little Prince 
had been struck. 

“ Madame,” said Hermann coldly, “ you need 
only have continued on your way and nothing 
would have happened to you.” 

He was persuaded that the Countess had imag- 
ined the greater part of what she had told him. 
He looked at her as she held her head up and 
the ridiculous majesty of her aspect was pro- 
voking in its impressiveness and contempt. He 
said to himself that these common people might 
have had their teeth set on edge by merely look- 
ing at that head (he was very witty !), and as the 
child was safe and sound, and that, all told, it 
was but a slight skirmish, he was inclined to an 
indulgence of which he felt in a confused man- 
ner the imprudence and folly. But the feeling 
was stronger than he was ; the sight of Mme. de 
Schliefen had always awakened in him, in the 


172 PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 

depths of his princely soul, he knew not what 
unsubduable revolutionary instinct. 

The old lady’s story had exeited Wilhelm. 
“Papa,” he ci’ied, “they were naughty men. 
You must kill all of them ! all ! ” 

The child was trembling with fright and anger. 
Hermann looked at him sadly and replied quietly : 
“But, my dear, if you want them to be killed, 
then you are as naughty as they are.” 

The puny child burst out sobbing. Hermann 
took him on his knees, embraced and caressed 
him, but without speaking ; the words of tender- 
ness and love which he wanted to use would not 
come to him. 

The Princess signed to the governess to take 
the child away. 


XVII. 






Alone with the Prince, Wilhelmine said : 

“It is true, then, perfectly true? You have 
authorized this manifestation?” 

He saw that she was determined this time to 
speak in spite of him, and that he could not escape 
an explanation. 

“ My word had been given,” he replied, “ and 
when I wanted to retract it was too late.” 

“ You could have done so had you wished to.” 
“ Well, then, I did not wish to.” 

“ Do you know what you are losing?” 

“I have already been told, but nothing is less 
certain. My opinion is that the strikers will 
return peacefully to their homes, after having 
made their wishes known, as they have a right 
to do.” 

“As they have a right to do ? Do you not see 
that, though it is impossible for them to commit 
any outrages to-day, this pretended right of 
public remonstrance will be the negation of your 
own right, this royal right, which is in reality 
their best safeguard \ ’ ’ 


m 


174 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


“ These are idle words. They are suffering ; 
I give them permission to make their complaints 
known ! 5 5 

“ A complaint which comes from thousands of 
mouths, and which parades through the streets, 
is no longer a complaint, but a menace. They 
suffer ? And do you believe there is no suffering 
but on their side? There is also on our side. 
There will be more if you desert your post. 
Think of that ; think of all those who are back 
of you, of your nobility, your army, of all the 
brave men who will be killed by one word from 
you, who, being of you, have put their confidence 
in you. All these, if the riot breaks out and 
encounters, by your fault, but an uncertain and 
halfway resistance — all these, who are under 
your care, will see to what you have delivered 
them — you, their master and their defender.” 

“I am the defender of the others also,” re- 
plied Hermann. “ Am I King only to mount 
guard over the privileged class and the strong 
boxes of the satisfied ones? For, thank God, 
they will say that a sovereign to-day is not a 
gendarme at the beck and call of the land- 
owners ! I do not accept this role. You call 
upon me to be a king ! Well, I lead royalty back 
to its primitive function, which is first of all to 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 


175 


protect the humble and the minority. I wish to 
befriend those who suffer the most. A great 
part of what they ask for is just ; I am sure of 
that, for I have studied the question. You do 
not know the inner lives of some of the poor. 
And how can you even have an idea of it ? You 
have never seen that life but from afar. I have 
tried to see it or to imagine it. And because of that 
I say to you that even the brutalities of the pop- 
ulace inspire me with less horror than the hypo- 
critical injustice and harshness of certain great 
lords. These, in reality, are greater strangers to 
me, seem less my brothers than the common peo- 
ple. To-day, even, do you know the root of the 
evil % It is because the rich have not the courage 
to consent to be less rich. There is no other 
reason for it. That is the whole obstacle, the 
insurmountable obstacle. And this is what 
makes me so angry.” 

“So be it,” said Wilhelmine with irony. 
“There is but pride and harshness in the higher 
circles — virtue and disinterestedness in the 
lower. I will not speak to you, then, of the devo- 
tion of the greater part of your noblemen, nor 
the traditions of honor and heroism belonging to 
our old houses ; and I will not say either that 
there are perhaps some rich people who are men 


176 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

of good will. I admit this egotism of the happy 
— do you think that it is a good thing to exas- 
perate them more by making them afraid ? or 
that the best way of inclining their minds to 
sacrifice is to permit the passage under their very 
windows, by a tolerance which resembles a com- 
plicity, of the brutal menacers of a revolution ? 
You complain of being misunderstood and badly 
seconded by them ? But talk to them ; at least 
do not show them this outward defiance ; and 
if you wish them to make this effort of working 
with you, even though it be against themselves, 
at least do not refuse to remain with them.” 

“ Alas !” said Hermann, u they know too well 
that I must remain, willingly or unwillingly, and 
that I am their prisoner. The truth is that I am 
bound to be one of the last absolute monarchs in 
Europe. I can do nothing directly with those of 
my subjects who hold nine-tenths of the fortune 

« 

of the kingdom. And their reasoning is atro- 
cious, do you know ? If this movement degener- 
ates into a riot they know that they must repress 
it, after all, and that the terror which will follow 
this suppression will re-establish for some time 
in their favor order and silence.” 

The Prince’s words sounded harsh. Wilhel- 
mine felt that his conviction was not shaken, 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. Ill 

but that his ideas escaped him. Her husband’s 
intention had an appearance of generosity which, 
without persuading, disconcerted the Princess. 
As a woman she could only hold her own against 
him by sentimental arguments ; and, besides, 
these arguments were superabundant in favor of 
Hermann’s thesis ; and instead of Wilhelmine 
being able to speak almost entirely from experi- 
ence and reason she replied with an effort : 

“Yes . . . for some little time only . . . 
perhaps. . . Yes, those you have to defend 
are the conquered of to-morrow. . . At least do 
not help toward their defeat.” 

A more conclusive argument striking her, she 
continued : 

“Do you know what will happen afterward? 
Or can you picture it to yourself without terror ? 
Defend your royal power then, in the midst of 
your dream, for what you are dreaming of is 
assuredly not the blind and stupid crowd, which 
will be the reality.” 

“Blind and stupid?” said Hermann. “Yes, 
that is what they keep repeating to me always ; 
and it is for this reason that I want the strikers 
to remain calm to the very end, so that they can 
have all the merit, and in consequence all the 
benefits ; I wish to leave them free, and that to 




■ t , ' 




178 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 

the very last moment that I can. The revolu- 
tionaries pretend that it is the suppression which 
causes the uprising. I wish to see if this is true, 
that is all.” 

u But that is an insane part which you are play- 
ing ! What you are exposing does not belong 
to you only ! The royal power is a patrimony 
of which each king is the depository and which 
he should transmit intact. If the danger to 
your own crown and life does not move you, at 
least think of your son. Do not lose him his 
crown.” 

u Nobody can tell me at this moment if I will 
lose it or make it more assured. I am making 
an experiment. I want to see if these people, 
whom I love and who ought to know it, are 
capable of aiding me by restraining themselves, 
or if it is but the brute in them which you ques- 
tion. The good which will come out of this ex- 
periment, if it is successful, is well worth running 
some risk for. A new condition of things brings 
with it new duties. It is necessary to-day for a 
sovereign to risk much to save all. And I will 
risk even the future crown of this little child.” 

“ Do not go on, Hermann ! It is not yourself, 
no, it is not you who are talking thus. What I 
refuse to believe is but too true. Dare you tell 


PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 179 

me that this folly is your own, that you are 
not under some other influence, and that there 
is between you and me but your own 
thoughts ? ” 

“What do you mean by that?” asked Her- 
mann in a broken voice. “All! madame, if I 
am mistaken, leave me at least the responsibility 
of my error. I am strong enough to carry it 
alone. If I were a man to succumb to an outside 
will, I should long ago have submitted to yours ; 
for, Dieu merci , I do not think that any other 
woman could put so much passion in asking — 
for what ? . . . blood ! And that the blood of 
your own people.” 

“Hermann,” she said sadly, “why do you 
give me this odious role ? Ho you believe that I 
have no pity and that my heart does not bleed 
in being obliged to talk to you like this?” 

She brushed away two tears which were trem- 
bling in her eyes. 

“Yes,” she continued, “what I have the cour- 
age to recall to you is an ungrateful and hard 
duty, but it is the most evident, the most press- 
ing, the most imperious of all your duties. And 
I tell you that you will not escape from it and 
that it will seize upon you as you come out of 
your dreams. You are not free ; you admitted 


180 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

that but a short time ago with anger. Something 
stronger than yourself, your birth and your rank, 
weighs upon you. You were born on this side 
of the battlefield ; so much the worse for you ! 
When you wish to be a deserter the other camp 
will not believe in yon. Take up your part and 
remain with us. And if everything gives way 
rrnder our feet and we fall at our posts in uphold- 
ing our rank, thirty generations of kings make it 
obligatory to us.” 

“Less than my conscience, madame.” 

The officer appeared in the doorway. 

“ What news ? ” asked Hermann. 
“Communication from the Governor : ‘The 
number of strikers is growing steadily larger. . . 
no disorder so far. . .’ But the General observes 
that it would be easy to divide the procession at 
the crossroads of des Tanneurs. He asks if your 
Royal Highness desires no modification in your 
given orders.’ ’ 

“None, absolutely none!” 

“But ” commenced Wilhelmine. 

“ I have said what I wish done.” 

“The strikers,” continued the officer, “must 
pass by the end of the royal garden. Your 
Highness can easily see them from the windows 
of the throne room.” 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 18l 

“I have thought of that. Thank you. You 
may go, captain.” 

And turning toward the Princess, he said : 

“ Madame, you often take pleasure in recall- 
ing my power and my rights to me. If I am a 
king, I am also a king for you. And if my right 
is a divine one, it is evidently God who has 
inspired me with this conduct which seems to 
scandalize you. What reply have you to 
make ? ” 

“None, Hermann, only that I am watching 
over the safety of our son, and that I will come 
back and take my place near you, no matter 
what happens!” 

u Madame, I have told you that nothing will 
happen to me.” 

‘‘Nothing, I hope and pray ! ” 


XVIII. 

The windows of the throne room looked out 
upon a long alley, which extended for five hun- 
dred yards, even to the very fence which inclosed 
the King’s private garden. Hermann remained 
for a long time gazing at the crowd passing this 
fence. They walked without any disorder, in 
unequal ranks and apparently in silence. 

Hermann looked long and steadily. As he 
looked through the window bars, he saw retreat- 
ing figures crowned almost universally by ugly 
faces, some fierce, others suffering and weary, the 
most part of them inexpressive, and sometimes 
their mouths were half open, but no cry escaped 
them. He thought : 

“ Well ! I was not mistaken. How wise they 
are, the poor men ! This does not look like a 
riot.” 

He felt a desire to thank them. But little by 
little this order and this silence, even, bred in him 
a great uneasiness. Better that it had been a 
confused and noisy multitude. This quasi-mute 
procession, which passed, passed interminably, 


PRINCE HERMANN \ RECENT. 183 

oppressed him with the sensation of its numbers 
and its strength. Hermann was astonished at 
himself for daring to set this force at liberty, 
were it but for a few hours ; the thought of 
this unknown strength and the uneasiness of 
waiting for the results became intolerable to 
him. 

Suddenly he perceived that the procession 
ceased its orderly march. It retraced its steps, 
the masses became greater, it oscillated and 
seemed to hurl itself against the paling. 

Almost at the same instant the officer an- 
nounced that the strikers demanded an entry 
into the royal garden. 

Hermann hesitated fora moment. . . “But,” 
he said to himself, “I would be a coward!” 
Then an irresistible desire took possession of him 
to see this shadowy crowd near by, which was so 
full of mystery and danger. 

“Let them enter ! ” he commanded. 

He placed himself at the window, to observe 
their actions, protected from the outside gaze by 
the balustrade of the great balcony and by the 
half-drawn curtains. 

The crowd of people soon swarmed in by the 
open gateway, advancing and growing in num- 
bers. The faces of the first comers stood out 

✓ 


184 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 


clearly. Hermann distinguished among them 
wicked and brutish countenances. 

“ Evidently,” he thought, “ they are not in- 
flamed by an idea of justice. They are, without 
doubt, as hard, as avaricious, as pitiless, and less 
politic than those against whom they are upris- 
ing. What kind of a society would these brutes 
remake for us ? ” 

But at once, by a proceeding habitual to him, 
he doubted the truth of his impression. 

“ After all, what right have I to assign base sen- 
timents to them on the strength of their convulsed 
features? All passion springing from anger 
deforms and makes the features ugly. In what 
do these uneasy faces differ from those of the 
soldiers who hurl themselves into the thickest of 
the fight, shrieking with rage. When Cynegire 
died his eyes were starting from his head, as 
are these eyes, and they were terrible to look 
at.” 

And then, alongside of the bald-headed men, he 
saw others so pale, so sorrowful, sweet-looking 
even — the head of a young girl, blond and even 
pretty, her look a little savage, but as proud in 
her tatters as a hamadryad, and then again faces 
almost ascetic ! 

The somber ranks walked slowly straight 


X 


PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 185 

toward the window, from which Hermann, invisi- 
ble to them, was watching them. It took them 
only a few moments to traverse the space between 
the gate and the ditch surrounding the palace. 
Hermann noticed that they followed the path- 
ways and respected the garden beds and groups 
of flowering shrubs. 

And as he watched this human wave growing 
larger and coming nearer, he meditated, and his 
thoughts, clear and strong, but too simple and 
incomplete, unknown to him as those of a 
martyr, who at the last moment passes in review 
in his own mind his reasons for believing and 
dying, passed through the Prince’s mind with 
a singular rapidity. 

“ What will come out of all this — looking at 
its worst consequences, the consequences of what 
I have dared to do? Evidently I expose myself 
but to this, that by some accident, by some mis- 
understanding between the people and the troops 
or the police, or the impatience of an officer, or the 
sudden folly of a fanatic, the manifestation may 
turn to a riot and the riot to a revolution — a vio- 
lent and complete revolution. Shall I go to the 
very bottom of the hypothesis. . . Have I the 
right to run this risk, advancing the hour to judge 
the better? . . . Let us suppose the ‘revolu - 


186 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

tion ’ an accomplished fact, the old order of 
things reversed, the new order established for 
better or worse, like all order in this world, 
founded on the new principles. Will humanity 
have lost by it ? Will this society be worth less 
than the other? Yes, there will have been acts 
of destruction and vengeance, innocent people 
will have been massacred— myself, perhaps. But 
the total of its crimes, what will they be, when 
compared to the total of those silent crimes, sti- 
fled mysteries which are covered up by the old 
order of things and by which they are main- 
tained ? This new society will be brutal, inele- 
gant, without arts or letters, without luxuries. 
But one can live without all these. My best days 
were those in which I lived nearest the earth, in 
the solitude of the fields like a shepherd or a 
laborer. And then, who knows? New souls, 
types of humanity now unknown, will reveal 
themselves, perhaps. Men have an almost inex- 
haustible faculty of adaptation to all the exterior 
conditions of social life. Disorder cannot last 
forever, because it will never convince but an 
infinitesimal minority. Then there will always be 
much more virtue and self-abnegation in- this 
world than in the old, because human nature does 
not change in its depths, and when the same 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 187 

injustices and the same violences are reborn under 
other forms, will they be worse then than we 
see them now ? What pity will we deserve % 
Every man incapable of accommodating him- 
self to the life of the new order of things made 
for individuals, that is to say, every man inca- 
pable of living otherwise than dependent on other 
men, may not be a wicked man, but does not 
deserve a very lively interest to be shown for him. 
. . . It is their lack of virtue which makes the 
conservatives oppose so furiously all social trans- 
formation. It is also this lack of virtue which 
will, no doubt, prevent the revolution from 
bearing all its fruits, and in this case the cow- 
ardly humanity of to-morrow may, perhaps, ex- 
plain the vile humanity of yesterday, but it can- 
not absolve it. If we are all beasts of prey, a 
great uprising of injustice will be a species and a 
commencement of justice. . 

The crowd was not more than two hundred 
yards away from the palace. There was no cry 
made, but the noise of its trampling was more 
portentous than all its clamors. Hermann per- 
ceived clearly in the front rank a hideous head, 
which was evidently the head of an assassin. 
And though it was nothing or almost nothing, 
and though this passing sensation did not change 


188 PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 

the truth of things, he was no longer so sure of 
his reasoning. He thought : 

“This is one of the strangest moments of my 
life. It seems to me I am tossing up for the 
gentleness or ferocity, the good sense or stupid- 
ity of this crowd. I am making an experiment 
from which I will come forth affirmed in my most 
cherished ideas or rid of all illusions and dis- 
gusted with men forever.” 

And he cried aloud in accents of ardent sup- 
plication : 

“ Mon Dieu! Grant that the people may 
understand me. Grant that these people may 
not be wicked.” 

“ Poor Hermann ! ” said a voice.. 

He turned and saw his cousin Renaud. He 
ran to him as one who was looking for a refuge 
and who had need of a sympathizer. 

“Renaud, my dear Renaud, dost thou not 
approve of my actions ? Am I not right to have 
confidence in them ? ” 

“ I have already told you that I pity you ! Do 
as you will you are always sure to do wrong. It 
is sad to be a prince at this time, unless one is a 
simpleton or a robber. I desire but one thing, 
and that is to be simply a head in the crowd.” 


PRINCE HERMANN , RECENT. 189 

He held out a parchment to Hermann. 

“ Sign this for me, this license which I have 
had drawn out as we agreed upon.” 

“ You wish it ? ” 

“I beg of you to do it.” 

“ You will never regret it? ” 

“No.” 

When Hermann had signed it he said : 

“Thank you, you have liberated me. From 
this moment I am simply Jean Werner, a second 
lieutenant on leave of absence. I breathe at 
last.” 

“You start soon ? ” 

The noise outdoors grew louder. Hermann 
stepped forward to the window and watched the 
people coming. But Renaud, without moving, 
insensible of the spectacle as of a man cured of 
vain curiosity, replied calmly : 

“ I embark to-morrow. I take with me a wife, 
whom I love dearly and whom I never could have 
married had I remained a prince. She is a little 
gymnast, called Lollia Tosti. We will be mar- 
ried far from here. I am taking enough with me 
on which to live comfortably. I sometimes ask 
myself, however, if this is very honest ; but 
one is always a coward on some one point ; and 
I fear poverty for my little friend, and I tell 



190 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


myself, after all, that which I possess, which I 
have not earned, is the salary that my ancestors 
— some of them at least — were able to earn for 
the good of the kingdom, as they say. Good-by, 
my dear cousin. ” 

The crowd had now reached the low railing of 
the old moat, which still protected the front of 
the palace. 

An idea crossed Hermann’s mind and he shiv- 
ered. 

u If they demand that the drawbridge shall be 
lowered, what will I do ? ” 

But the crowd seemed to have no thoughts of 
penetrating into the interior of the palace. Only 
the surging mass spread itself silently along the 
low railing, and all at once an intense clamor 
broke forth. 

44 Renan d, what are they crying out ? ” 

“By my faith,” said Renaud, 44 they are not 
crying, 4 Yive le Roi ! ’ ” 

The clamor was redoubled, taking upon itself 
a form, a name came forth from the confusion, 
rung out as on a gamut from thousands of 
throats : 

44 Andotia ! Andotia ! ” 

4 4 They want you to give her back to them, ’ ’ said 
Renaud, 4 4 and I can understand them. Their 





PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 


191 




friend is a very unreasonable person, and a very 
dangerous one for us, but very original also, the 
truth all told, and the only one to my knowledge 
who practices absolute charity — always excepting 
ourselves.” 

“To give her back to them? But I cannot, 
Renaud, I cannot ; I take thee for a witness. The 
black standard she carried is the standard of 
mourning, of revolt and death. It expresses 
despair, the necessity of recovering by supreme 
measures. Besides, the people are not in it ; the 
people have no right to signify that they agree 
with her, as their Prince has confidence in them 
and wishes them but good.” 

He had determined on this question of the black 
flag, astonished, in spite of the knowledge which 
he thought he had of these simple minds, that 
these people did not understand the subtility of 
his logic, but, above all, that this last scruple 
was like the ideal point which separated him, 
the guardian of order, from avowed complicity 
with the army of revolt. 

The clamor continued more and more men- 
acing. Hermann threw himself toward the win- 
dow, and tried to open it. 

‘ ‘ I am going to show myself ; I am going to say 
to them ” 


192 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

. 

Renaud lield him back. 

“ They will kill you, my friend. Have you a 
butcher’s head ? Have you Panton’s shout and 
thunder with which to harangue these people? 
But as to us ! Those duties do not agree with our 
style of beauty, my poor Hermann.” 

“It is true,” said the Prince. 

He gazed on the crowd, more and more crushed 
and ashamed, and he straightened himself up by 
force of will. He murmured: “I should not 
... no ... I should not. . .” An agony 
more painful than death clutched at his heart. 

“ Thus you abandon me, Renaud ? You aban- 
don me at the very moment in which I am 
most unhappy, and when all the others have 
already abandoned me ? Because, understand 
me, I feel all around me the disavowal and tlie 
recoil of all those who live by royalty, of all 
those who counted upon me as upon the greatest 
general gendarme of the country. See wliat 
I have against me— the people, because I am a 
Prince ; and all the rest of the nation, because I 
love the people. . . And this is the hour thou 
hast chosen in which to desert me ! ” 

“I did not choose it, Hermann. But what 
would you have me do here ? I can help thee 
in nothing. All the world looks upon me as a 



fool because I choose to live in my own fashion. 
They will believe that I approve of thee, and 
that will do thee more harm still. Therefore I 
am going away. I renounce without regret my 
rights to the crown. I evade royalty. I disap- 
pear. It is a good thing to disappear.” 

The cries outdoors became more clamorous. 
The crowd moved away from the low railing 
little by little and spread itself toward the 
right, crowding into the Avenue de la Reine, 
which lay on the left side of the royal palace. 

The gates of the interior court opened on this 
avenue, at the end of which was located the 
police station, to which Andotia Latanief had 
been conducted. 

“ What are they going to do?” anxiously 
demanded the Prince. 

“The simplest thing in the world. They are 
very good-hearted — they are going to deliver 
their friend themselves.” 

“Come with me,” said Hermann. 


XIX. 


He dragged Renaud through galleries, along 
narrow and crooked passageways, through low 
doorways, up broken staircases hewn in the 
thickness of the walls ; for the palace, rebuilt 
and enlarged at different periods, was planned in 
certain parts like a chateau in a melodrama. 
They crossed the corridor in which Prince Man- 
fred had been assassinated by the order of his 
brother, Otto III., the room in which Queen 
Ortude, aided by her lover, had strangled King 
Christian V., and the low chamber in which 
King Christian YI. had confined old King Conrad 
VIII. — whom he had accused of being demented — 
for ten years, and then had allowed him to die of 
hunger. 

They reached one of the turrets, formerly 
belonging to the prison, now part of the chapel. 
From this point, by three narrow windows, like 
loopholes, they discovered the whole Avenue de 
la Reine spread out before them and the left 
wing of the palace. 

As they entered they saw in the dusk a woman 

194 


PRINCE HERMANN \ RECENT. 195 

kneeling on a priedien and shaken by sobs. 
It was the Princess Wilhelmine. On perceiving 
her husband she suddenly dried her tears and 
regained her air of implacable dignity before 
commencing her prayers anew. 

They passed behind the altar and ascended a 
staircase which was used by the chaplain for ex- 
posing the monstrance in its niche, opened a vent 
hole cut in one of the narrow and heavy windows, 
and looked out. 

The chestnut trees in the avenue hid in places 
the carriage road and the wide pavements, but 
this is what they saw afar through the openings 
in the masses of foliage : 

The crowd dashed against the wicket, trying to 
force the heavy door by throwing paving stones 
and by battering it with heavy bars of iron, or in 
pushing against it like a catapult or the shafts 
of a tumbrel. Men made themselves into short 
ladders upon which others climbed trying to reach 
the windows of the first floor. All the windows of 
this part of the palace fell with the noise of hail 
under the shower of stones, and as the pieces 
of glass rebounded upon the heads of the be- 
siegers, the fury of the people became redoubled, 
similar to that of a lunatic who had wounded 
himself. A continuous clamor filled the air. 


\ 






196 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

Several black flags spread out like birds of ill- 
omen hovering over a turbulent sea. 

Then at the end of the avenue appeared a 
squadron of cuirassiers, who had come out from 
the interior courtyard of the palace by one of 
the gates in the right wing and who had taken the 
multitude unawares. Hermann saw the motion of 
the officer as he sounded the three summons agreed 
upon, but they were useless. The cavalry com- 
menced their slow march. Stronger eddies ran 
through the crowd, but they made no attempt to 
disperse. When the first rank of horses were 
upon them they seemed to swell out like the 
curve of a puddle of water which is being swept 
away. Heads disappeared, submerged in this 
whirlwind, and Hermann knew that bodies must 
be being trampled under foot. Faithful to their 
orders the cavalrymen did not unsheathe. But the 
enraged mob dragged at their boots, others hung 
by the horses’ nostrils. And all at once, without 
Hermann seeing how it was done, the crowd 
reformed behind the squadron. The cuirassiers 
wheeled about face. The mob threw stones at 
them. Faces were bruised and torn, and from 
under more than one helmet blood trickled. A 
few defended themselves by blows from their 
scabbards or by the butt end of their carbines. 


FRINGE HERMANN , REGENT. 19 Y 

Horses were prancing wildly. A cavalryman 
was torn from bis horse by furious hands and did 
not reappear. 

The orderly was behind Hermann at the foot 
of the staircase awaiting his orders. 

“ Go ! ” said Hermann, “ they have brought it 
upon themselves. The soldiers belong to the 
people also. . . Call out the infantry and let 
them tire . . . after the three summons. 

“ Good, my lord ! ” 

Hermann buried bis bead in bis two bands. 

‘•Ob! tbe brutes! tbe brutes! the brutes !’ 5 
be cried. u But why, my God, why? ” 

The squadron, assailed from before and behind, 
defended itself as it could. Of their own 
accord the cavalry had unsheathed their swords. 
The melee was becoming murderous. 

The door which the insurgents were besieging 
but a few moments ago opened suddenly and the 
foot soldiers poured out into the avenue. Three 
summons were rung, to which the people paid no 
attention, not seeming even to hear ; then there 
was a discharge of musketry which cut a circular 
void in the crowd like that left after the sweep of 
a scythe in the grain. Two or three thousand 
insurgents found themselves hemmed in in their 
turn by the cavalry and the foot soldiers, as 


198 PRTnCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

surely condemned as cattle in an abbatoir. Filled 
with wild rage, they threw themselves upon the 
lowered guns. A new discharge opened in their 
moving mass new hollows, which were quickly 
tilled up. But several of the cavalrymen, struck 
by the balls fired by the infantry, were thrown 
from their horses, and the crowd precipitated 
themselves upon them. 

Hermann turned his eyes away ; he could look 
no longer. He descended the staircase. 

“At any price,” lie said to the officer, 4 6 let 
them stop firing. At any price, do yon hear?” 

Wilhelmine had gone out a few moments 
before, without saying anything. 

Hermann re-entered his private room, followed 
by his cousin. He sank into an armchair. 

“ Do you understand now why I must go?” 
said Renaud in an even calm voice. “ I saw the 
King yesterday ; I bade him good-by. He hardly 
recognized me ; he is very low, and I do not think 
that he will live much longer. Poor uncle ! He 
was never very kind to me ; natural affection 
was not very strong in him. But perhaps he is 
better off than we are, for he believed in some- 
thing ; and he played his role prettily and with a 
rude conviction. And what is making you pale 
with agony seemed to him the most simple thing 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT \ 


199 


in the world. . . But listen. Soon, in a few weeks, 
you will receive some dispatches, very authentic, 
which will establish the fact that I have been 
shipwrecked, or that I have been accidentally 
killed in a hunt ; in fact, that I am dead. This 
will not be true. I tell you this because I do not 
wish to deceive you. You will officially spread 
the news of my death. Then I will indeed be 
free.” 

“ Yes,” said Hermann. 

A few minutes rolled by slowly, heavy with 
agony. Finally the officer reappeared. 

“ Is it ended ? ” asked Hermann. 

“Yes, my lord. It was already ended when 
the order to cease firing was given.” 

“The new model guns must have faire mer- 
veille, as they say. . . How many dead ? ” 

“It is not exactly known. Five or six hun- 
dred, perhaps, and a greater number of wounded. 
The others ask nothing more than to be 
allowed to pass. Order is re-established or will 
be soon.” 

“You see,” said Renaud, “that you no 
longer need me. Adieu, my poor Hermann.” 
“Adieu, Renaud ! You are happy ? ” 

“You will do what I asked you to ? ” 

“ What was that ? ” 



200 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

“ You did not even hear me ? ” 

“No!” 

“ Well, then, I will write you. Adieu ! ” 

“Adieu!” 

The two cousins embraced. When Renaud 
had gone Hermann turned to the orderly and 
asked : 

‘ ‘ W ere there among the wounded any women 
and children.” 

“ About sixty, my lord.” 

“ Let them get the list of victims as quickly as 
possible, with the addresses of their families, and 
let them be sent to me.” 

“Yes, my lord.” 

“ I have thought of that, Hermann, and I have 
already given orders for it to be done,” said 
the Princess Wilhelmine, who entered at that 
moment. 


XX. 


When Wilkelmine had left Hermann two 
hours before, wounded by his harsh words, she 
had first gone to her son’s room, and cov- 
ered the little one with tragic kisses, which 
seemed suitable to her under the circumstances, 
and had experienced a certain sweetness in tell- 
ing herself that she would die as an arch- 
duchess, in an attitude and uttering words 
which would perhaps remain historical. Then 
she commenced to wander aimlessly through the 
corridors of the palace. 

In one of these she met Otto. 
u Have you seen Hermann? Have you spoken 
with him ? ” 

Otto, still livid from his conversation with his 
brother, had his worst expression on his face, an 
air of wickedness which was that of a black- 
guard and a coward. Ordinarily his sister-in-law 
avoided him, knowing his abominable vices and 
divining the shamefulness of his life. But now 
this pure Princess felt that she had an ally in 

this bandit ; if he abused to the verge of crimi- 

201 






202 PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 

nality*the privileges of liis rank, he must hold at 
least to these privileges. And as it was now a 
question of there being kings or not being kings, 
dishonoring royalty seemed to Wilhelmine less 
criminal, after all, than denying it and losing it 
voluntarily. She shared a little in the sentiments 
of those devotees in whose eyes an - unworthy 
priest is less dangerous than a priest who is pub- 
licly doubted. 

“Oh, yes,” grumbled Otto, “lie is putting us 
in a pretty pickle! I told him so a while 
ago.” 

44 Well!” 

4 4 There is nothing to be done when those 
dreamers become wedded to an idea. No, I 
never saw anyone so crazy and so intent on ruin- 
ing himself. Ah ! she can well boast of having 
kept him.” 

44 She ? who ?” 

44 Oh, nothing ! Pardon.” 

4 4 Mile, de Thalberg, is she not the one you 
mean ?” said Wilhelmine quietly. 

44 1 would remark, my dear Wilhelmine, that 
it is you who named her.” 

44 Then it is she?” 

44 Oh ! I am betraying no confidence in repeat- 
ing what is known to the whole world : that she 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 203 

governs him absolutely, that he sees nothing but 
through her eyes, that he does nothing but by 
her orders. It was to please her that he par- 
doned Andotia Latanief. You must remember 
that that was his first act as a sovereign, and you 
see how it has succeeded.” 

“ You are sure of that, Otto % ” 

“ Did you not know it ? ” 

“ Do not speak lightly, Otto, nor without 
thinking, or with bitterness. Each of your words 
wounds me to the bottom of my heart.” 

“Ah! my dear Wilhelmine, I am telling you 
what is. You, I, and all of us are between the 
hands of this little adventuress ; this is the 
truth ; and if ten thousand workingmen are tri- 
umphantly parading the streets of the city it is 
because Mile. Frida does not wish them to be 
disturbed. And this is how history is made and 
how kingdoms are lost.” 

“No, Otto, I do not believe you; I do not 
want to believe you. If this were true, in the 
first place, he would want to keep her near him, 
he would not wish to be separated from her. 
This girl amused him by her oddness, then he 
became attached to her, because it just happened 
that he had been of service to her. Nothing 
more, I swear to you.” 


204 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

“Then why was it that a few moments ago 
you named her first of all ?” 

“Because I feared all; because I am crazy. 
. . . But really it is months ago since she went 
to visit her great-uncle, the Marquis de Franen- 
laub. . 

“Visiting her uncle!” said Otto, feigning 
astonishment. 

“ Yes. But is she not with her great-uncle ? ” 
“ It is possible. Where does he live ? ” 

“Why . . . at the Chateau de Franenlaub.” 
“Ah !” 

“ What does that ‘ah ' mean ? ” 

“Nothing. This little one owes us nothing, 
after all, and if she amuses herself I am not the 
one to prevent her.” 

“ What do you mean ? Where is she ? ” 

“One of my intimate friends, going to the hunt 
a few weeks ago, pretends to have met Mile, de 
Thalberg in the woods around Lowenbriin, and 
consequently ten or twelve miles from Franen- 
laub.” 

Otto told the truth very nearly. Since his 
money embarrassments he had taken refuge in 
the Chateau de Lowenbriin in order to live 
economically. One morning as he was riding 
through the forest he had perceived, about two 


PRINCE HERRMANN, REGENT. 205 

hundred steps in front of him a woman, who 
walked very quickly and whose figure recalled 
in a strange manner that of Frida ; he had hast- 
ened his horse’s gait to catch up to her, but the 
woman had disappeared in a turn of the road, 
and he had not been able to find her again. 
Doubtless she had plunged into the underbrush. 

“But I think,” continued Otto, “ what I have 
just told you ought rather to reassure you, 
because I do not believe Hermann, overwhelmed 
as he is by business, has had an opportunity of 
leaving Marbourg during the past few months. 
What ails you ? ” 

Wilhelmine was ghastly. 

“ Hermann, ” she said, “has gone several 
times to Lowenbrun to see the King.” 

Otto’s face expressed great sympathy and 
pity. 

“My poor Wilhelmine! My poor Wilhel- 
mine ! ” 

“Leave me, Otto ; leave me, I pray you ! ” 

She escaped from him, and wandered a little 
while longer aimlessly about the corridors ; 
finally she fled to the chapel, where she burst 
into tears as she flung herself on her priedieu. 

She prayed, and as she prayed she wept in 
despair and anger. She wanted to get hold of 


206 FRINGE HERMANN, REGENT. 

this girl who had taken her husband from her, 
to make her suffer, to strangle her with her own 
bands. Then she was ashamed of being jealous, 
like a common woman. Was she going to 
avenge herself after the manner of a betrayed 
bourgeoisie ? There were many other things 
to consider — saving the Prince and the state, 
for instance. Yes, but the state and the Prince, 
who had imperiled them? She, this girl, always 
her ! And feeling reassured as to the dignity of 
her own sentiments, believing that what she 
hated, above all else, in her husband’s mistress 
was the political criminal, Wilhelmine meditated, 
as she prayed, upon pitiless vengeance. 

It was just at that moment that Hermann 
entered the chapel. By a strong effort of will 
she lifted her eyes toward him, from which she 
had banished all traces of tears. This man, of 
whom her thoughts had been so inimical, looked 
so unhappy that she was seized with a sudden 
pity for him. She remembered that she had 
loved him and that she loved him still. “ He is 
blind,” she murmured, “ but his folly is not that 
of a small-minded man. This Frida governs him 
because she flatters his chimeras. I will try to 
enter into his ideas, to battle against them, un- 
known to him, and pretend to understand them 




PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 


207 


in order to conquer them. This will be worthy 
of me, and not this egotistical fury of a carnal 


jealousy, for which I pray you to forgive me, 


that blood was being shed, and her womanhood 
was moved. When Hermann gave the order to 
fire on the mob she trembled all over ; she con- 
ceived a horror for these things, and felt as Her- 
mann felt, and for one moment her whole heart 
went out to him. “ He will need comfort and 
consolation,” she thought ; “ well, then, I will be 
his consoler. It will be the means of driving the 

memory of the other one out.” 

. 

As she heard the gunshots she nearly fainted. 
She felt that she must cry out : “No ! no ! Not 
that !” But she reflected that this cowardice of 


the flesh, and her jealous rage of a few moments 
ago, were both feelings of the same nature, in- 
stinctive and low. “ I must conquer this, I must 
be a princess. .. . But a princess should feel no 
personal hate ; she obeys but superior and dis- 
interested feelings. . . After just suppression, 
the universal duty of royal protection should have 
its turn.” 

It was then that she had risen and that she had 
gone to give the order for help for the families 


O God ! ” 


She heard the uproar outside, and suspected 







208 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

of the victims. She told herself that Hermann 
would be pleased at that. 

But when she told him what she had done he 
did not even thank her. 

Lying across the lounge, his hands hanging 
down, he turned an agonized face, covered with 
great beads of perspiration, toward his wife. 

“ Well ! Are you satisfied ?” 

She drew herself up, and instead of being soft 
and supplicating, her attitude remained haughty, 
her brows frowning, while her lips endeavored to 
utter words of tenderness and prayer. 

“ Do not speak any more harsh words to me, 
Hermann. I know well how painful the duty 
which you had to do lias been to you, and I, like 
you, am broken hearted. And it is for this reason 
that I am come to you, so that in this exper- 
iment you will feel that there is someone near 
you who loves you. I want to be of some use 
to you, to comfort you, to console you a 
little. . . ” 

“ No, Willielmine, leave me. Of us two I am 
the one who has the woman’s weakness; I see 
that I inspire you with pity, and I do not wish to 
do that. . . I need to be alone. . . As soon as I 
can I will go and hide myself at Lowenbriin.’’ 

“ At Lowenbriin? ” asked Wilhelmine, startled. 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT . 


209 


“ Yes. There alone, in the peacefulness of the 
great woods, I will become quiet, I will forget.” 
“At Lowenbriin ! But, Hermann, it is impossi- 
ble for you to think of leaving Marbourg at present. 
How do you know that it is ended, that it may not 
break forth again at any moment ? ” 

“I will wait as long as is necessary! Be not 
afraid, I have commenced to kill and I will con- 
tinue to do so, if necessary. . . But judging 
from present appearances, the people are satis- 
fied, at least for the present. I hope, then, in a 
few days to be able to go to Lowenbriin, to be 
near my father.” 

“I will go with you, Hermann.” 

“No, no, Wilhelmine, I pray you. What I 
stand in need of is the deejoest solitude. I will 
live there, as a hermit, as a savage ; I desire 
neither court life nor etiquette — nothing of 
what is so necessary to you. You would be very 
weary of this life, I assure you.” 

“I would not be weary, my dear Hermann, 
because I would be with you. I have reflected 
much lately. . . I will be to you what I was not 
in the first days of our marriage. You will tell 
me what is displeasing to you in me and I will 
endeavor to correct it. I will interest myself in 
what interests you ; I will no longer be cold ; I 


210 PRINCE HERMANN REGENT . 

will no longer contradict you ; I will try to enter 
into the spirit of your ideas.” 

“My ideas,” said Hermann, with a sneer. 
“Have I any ideas any more? No, Wilhelmine, 
no ; again, once more, no. I have just saved — 
and it cost blood — this thing which you hold 
dearest in all the world: your power. What 
more do you need?” 

Wilhelmine drew nearer to him ; she knelt 
before him, her two elbows on the arms of his 
chair, her chin resting on her interlaced fingers ; 
she knelt as a caressingly imploring woman. The 
habitual sternness of her eyebrows was softened. 
For the first time the Princess was but a loving 
wife who wished to win back her husband. The 
moment was well chosen. Had not Hermann 
just said that he had no ideas ? The bitterness 
of his reply was but the outburst of his suffer- 
ings. “ It is this suffering,” she thought, “ which 
will give him back to me, because the other is far 
away and I am here.” 

She continued in a low voice, which trembled a 
little, and raising her beautiful eyes imploringly 
to his face, she said : 

“ What I need, Hermann, is thine heart. She 
who speaks to thee is no longer the Archduchess, 
as you sometimes call me, but thy wife. Dost 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 211 

thou not feel that I love thee ? that if I beg of 
thee not to ruin thyself it is because in saving 
the Prince Koyal thou savest my husband ? and 
if I seemed violent and ill timed to thee it was 
because I feared . . . that which I could not 
speak, and that this thought put me beside my- 
self. Prove to me that I was mistaken by per- 
mitting me to follow thee.” 

f But while she was speaking Hermann dis- 
tinctly saw before him in the pathway of a 
deserted park the form of his loved one, who was 
not there beside him. And the insistance of the 
one who was near him exasperated him. . . 
Nothing is more insupportable than the tender- 
ness of one whom you do not love. She wished 
and longed for his love, and, in consequence, be- 
came odious to him, because she placed him in 
the wrong. He replied in a constrained manner : 

“My dear Willi elmine, the effort which you 
have made to be kind to me touches me deeply. 
I would respond to it if I could, but I cannot. 
Pardon me.” 

And as she timidly made a motion to pass her 
arm around his neck, he recoiled quickly, his 
mind crossed by a dreadful thought. Why had 
she precisely at that moment, but an hour after 
the butchery, taken upon herself these loving, 



212 PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 

almost provoking ways? Horror! Was this, 
then, the recompense of what he had just done, 
that she pretended to offer to him ? And these 
unkind words burst from him : 

“It is more than ten years now since you last 
spoke to me in this way, madame ! Let us try 
to forget under what circumstances you then 
opened your heart to me, and that on the day 
on which my royalty was baptized in blood you 
conceived the idea of loving me.” 

Wilhelmine stood up quickly, outraged by the 
injustice, trembling from the insult. 

‘ ‘ Then you will go alone to Lowenbriin ? ’ ’ 
“Yes.” 

“To rejoin your mistress; is not that 

SO?” . 

Hermann looked at her from her head to her 
feet. She resembled a statue of Tragedy, with 
her straight nose, her meeting eyebrows, the too 
regular arch of her lips, and her strong neck. It 
was not her fault, however, poor woman, if her 
classical beauty gave a theatrical majesty to her 
least studied expression, to her most sincere feel- 
ings. But it annoyed him, that she should be 
beautiful with a beauty that resembled a cast in 
the Ecole des Beaux Arts. 

“Ah, then,” he said, “this is the secret of 


PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 213 

your great change ! You are jealous, madame ! 
Shame ! ” 

“ Yes, jealous ; because if you repulse me thus 
harshly it is because you belong entirely to this 
woman, who is your evil genius. All your cow- 
ardice of to-day she is responsible for ; and if 
you are frightened and overwhelmed at having 
done your duty, unhappy one ! it is because you 
are thinking of the reckoning which you must 
render to her. She has taken my husband from 
me ; because of her you forget to be a father 
and a king ; I am threatened by her, as a wife, 
as a mother, as a queen. But she must be 
careful. I will defend myself, and by every 
means in my power. Do you hear me? I have 
sworn to be avenged ! ” 

He shrugged his shoulders, less from disdain 
than from weariness. 

“ You are wrong,” she said in a slow, grave 
tone; “you are wrong to despise this warning. 
To defend my rights, that is to say, to perform 
my duty, you do not know of what I am 
capable.” 

He replied in a weary tone : 

“ You are mistaken, madame ; I have no mis- 
tress at Lowenbriin.” 

“At Lowenbriin or some place else. I pray 


/ 


214 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

you, do not descend to this, Prince de Mar- 
bourg.” 

“Madame, I give you my royal word (you 
will believe in that, I hope) that Mile, de Thal- 
berg is not my mistress. And now you may come 
to Lowenbrun if you wish.” 

Wilhelmine remained for an instant dum- 
founded. If Frida was not Hermann’s mistress, 
then what tie united the Prince and the young 
barbarian ? 

“I will go to Lowenbrun,” she said, “for if 
this is the case . . . it is worse than I thought.” 



XXI. 

Hermann was filled with agony and remorse; 
his will, from the long strain which he had been 
under, chafed within him like a broken spring. 
He was more unhappy because he had lost con- 
fidence in himself ; the check given to his enter- 
prise did not alter, to his eyes, the reasons which 
had urged him to it. Yes, all that had happened 
was his fault and not that of those poor miser- 
able creatures. No matter what they did he 
could not curse them, and he felt powerless 
against them. Little by little compassion had 
become a species of mania with him, precisely 
because he was a prince and his rank held him 
aloof from those for whom he had always felt 
compassion. Perhaps the influence of the con- 
stant and voluntary representation of universal 
misery is more powerful on the mind — more hyp- 
notizing, if you may so call it — than the near 
spectacle of some particular miseries, from the 
importunity of which you can be freed by try- 
ing yourself to bring help to them. These great 
charitable bodies, St. Vincent de Paul and Sis- 

215 


216 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

ter Rosalie Societies, were not sad ; they saved 
themselves from sadness by constant action. But 
Hermann had worked from a general and ab- 
stract pity, revolving around a fixed idea. 

Then the images of the eight hundred corpses 
followed him. It was more than his nerves could 
stand. His reason vainly told him that he was 
but the justiciary ; he felt himself a murderer. 
He reproached himself with his obstinacy on the 
question of the black flag. Why, after all, had 
he forbidden it ? Evidently the black flag had 
not had the same significance in the eyes of the 
manifestants which Hermann had given to it. It 
signified to them not revolt, but a great mourn- 
ing for the unhappy people. If he had let them 
unfurl it or, later, if he had consented to 
deliver Andotia, who knows ? Perhaps the day 
would have remained peaceful and borne fruit. 
To prevent the beast which slumbered in the 
crowd all chance of breaking loose, a pre- 
ventive suppression was needed (Hellborn had 
spoken truly), or else limitless tolerance. Her- 
mann had not known how to choose between the 
two. And by his fault the cause of justice and 
humanity was a little less advanced than before. 

And the worst of it was that it was thus for a 
long time compromised. Doubtless the experi- 



ment which Hermann had attempted would prove 
nothing against the truth of his principles, for 
the reason that he had lacked the energy to push 
this experiment to the bitter end. But in stop- 
ping midway he had made it impossible for him 
to recommence it. The people’s crime forbade 
him, and what made his trouble greater was that 
for this crime he secretly held himself respon- 
sible. 

If he dared, however 

The objections of the egotists, which were also 
those of the wise heads, came back to him very 
strongly from the moment that he had been face 
to face with the brutality and cruelty of the 
crowds. The story of the revolters, was it not 
overrun with contradictions by which it destroyed 
itself ? 

The socialistic dream is an idyl made up of 
charity and mutual good feeling. But on the 
other side, being given the present society, it 
seems possible that the era of this romance can 
only be inaugurated by violence. In other words, 
this dream cannot be conceived and embraced but 
by loving hearts ; but the preliminary destruc- 
tions which infer its realization call for fierce 
souls to undertake them. And nevertheless Her- 
mann represented to himself in vivid colors the 


218 PRINCE HERMANN, \ REGENT \ 

cowardly rascality of revolutionary politicians. 
And nevertheless, the people know their lives, 
when they have been proved mistaken the people 
continued to follow them, and these exploiters 
are worse than the capitalists, because they know 
how to use the illusive words which are needed 
to blind them. 

This dream, besides, is altogether material and 
terrestrial. It is a question of enjoying the earth 
and of enjoying it to its utmost, in consideration 
of a minimum of effort and work for each one. 
But it is a question of enjoying it together and 
equally, and without the strong taking from the 
weak. This presupposes a charity, a temper- 
ance, an empire over self ; virtues, in fact, which 
up to the present have never had stronger sup- 
port than religious beliefs. To be brief, the 
realization of this pagan dream requires 
Christian virtues, virtues whose very essences 
repudiate it entirely. 

This dream, in fact, is, in the minds of those who 
originate it, a return to the natural state, amelior- 
ated, it is true, by centuries of industry and inven- 
tions. But notwithstanding the natural appear- 
ance of the social organization of the old world, it 
is by means of the natural forces that humanity 
has become what we see it. Nothing is more 




PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT \ 219 

natural than egotism, nor the instinct of owner- 
ship, of conquest and cultivation ; there is noth- 
ing more natural than the inequalities of bodies 
and intelligences, than the predominance of the 
strong over the weak. And thus of two things 
one must be : either this ideal and senseless 
society, built upon nature, must become tainted 
soon, as the old world became tainted, under the 
empire of the same instincts and the same neces- 
sities ; or this pretended natural society cannot 
remain intact, except under the condition that 
each one of its members understands the nature 
that is in himself. 

This was very improbable, and Hermann knew 
it only too well. It was formerly religious faith 
which alone made it possible to be resigned 
to social injustices ; but it was also religion and 
the virtues which were sustained by it that alone 
could assure the establishment and duration of 
a society from which these injustices should be 
banished. Besides, the people no longer believed. 
Unbeliever himself, Hermann was not hypocrite 
enough to reproach them with their unbelief; 
but he did not hide from himself to what extent 
this emancipation of mind was destined to spread, 
by the kindness and disinterestedness of men of 
great minds, and who had not, like him, found in a 


220 PRINCE HERMANN, PE GENT. 

moral rule, liberally conceived and embraced, the 
equivalent of a religion. If these men became 
masters, what use would they make of their 
power? What robberies, what disorders, what 
chaos awaited them ! 

But who knows ? It is not from any fault of 
theirs, it is accidentally and provisionally that the 
impiety of a people is a crime. But later ? 

And then by a process habitual to his man- 
ner of thinking, advancing the ages, prolonging 
some of the years of reality, neglecting others, 
Hermann mused thus : 

“ Let us suppose that the whole of humanity 
has lost all manner of religious belief, that the 
energy of its passions shall be exhausted (this, 
in spite of everything, can be foreseen already, 
and it is recognized as inevitable), that even 
egotism is in vain, and that it shall come back 
from egotism, as from all the rest, by a long veri- 
fication of the incapacity with which it assures a 
happy life, even to the strongest, then men will 
say to themselves : “ Since we know nothing, since 
we have nothing to expect, and nothing to look 
forward to, since we only appear for one instant 
on the surface of one of the smallest planets of 
the solar system, for the purpose of plunging 
almost immediately into eternal night, let us 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 221 

arrange that this passage may not be too doleful, 
or, at least, that it may be pleasant for at least 
a small number of us. Let us mutually supj>ort 
and aid each other. It is even natural at present 
that we should love one another. For the convic- 
tion that we are, without exception, by our misery 
and the vanity of things, forced to renounce all 
hope of an au dela , is not this precisely what 
all former generations had searched for without 
finding — to find a real tie between souls, a com- 
munion in a truly universal feeling? If it is 
necessary for men to agree in order to be saved, 
do they not see that it is not in affirmation, but 
in the abstention and metaphysical hopelessness 
that they can only agree and even agree tenderly 
like brothers, in ignorance and resignation • 
This is far off, very far off in the future. But 
this will be. Humanity cannot reach this point 
but after a series of terrible shocks. The 
French Revolution was one. Thirty thousand 
human beings were sacrificed. But since then 
millions and millions of creatures have known 
better conditions of life, have been, perhaps, 
gifted with sentiments and thoughts which they 

never had before. If I only dared ” 

But no, he dared not. He felt more forcibly 
than ever all the accumulated resistance against 


999 
£ £ £ 


PliINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


the establishment of an ideal justice in an aristo- 
cratic bourgeois society, founded ten or twelve 
centuries ago. If the courage should come to 
him to make a second experiment the classes and 
public bodies interested in the conservation of 
the past would not permit him this time. 
Besides, were he liberal-minded enough to con- 
sent to the revolution and its extreme conse- 
quences, which might mean his own deposition, 
he was decidedly not strong-minded enough to 
run the risks and to stand the sight of its imme- 
diate violence and catastrophes ; beneficent, per- 
haps, but so long in coming to maturity. 

And then, even if he dared, and even if they 
would permit him to dare again, the people, be- 
lieving that he had betrayed them, would never 
believe in him again. All he could do to reduce 
the inevitable actual evil would be to save V or dr e, 
or if this duty was too repugnant to him, to let 
others save it, no matter what this preservation 
of order cost charity and justice. 

Then his reveries overwhelmed him. He felt 
the vagueness and incolierency of them, he suf- 
fered from his inability to place them. . . Then 
he was tired, he felt the ungovernable desire 
to lay down his burden and to sleep. 

He commanded General de Kersten’s presence 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 223 

and intrusted to him the duty of keeping order 
by the means which he judged most efficacious. 
Hermann was so deeply moved, he had formerly 
felt himself to be so strong against all kinds of 
vanity, that he pardoned a smile of satisfaction 
which he surprised lurking under the heavy mus- 
taches of the old soldier. 

“ I need only continue, my lord, the good work 
which your Royal Highness has commenced,” 
replied the general, without an idea, perhaps, of 
the irony contained in his reply. 

A state of siege was proclaimed. The fol- 
lowing days there were a few street skirmishes, 
which were rigorously suppressed, and blood 
flowed anew. The greater part of the strikers, 
pressed by hunger, returned to the mines and the 
workshops. The middle classes became assured 
of their safety. The conservative party returned 
to Hermann, and already looked upon him as a 
savior, while he appeared to the lower classes 
as the most odious and perfidious of princes. 
Shunned by those whom he loved in his heart, 
congratulated by those whom he despised, he 
felt, in all its extent, th& agony of being publicly 
misunderstood and of knowing no remedy for 
such misunderstanding. 

Andotia Latanief was only condemned to eight 


224 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

days’ imprisonment. She was the true cause of 
the strike and the massacre, but she could be 
tried only for her exhibition of the black flag. 
They might have been able, by a skillful interpre- 
tation of the law, to have inflicted on the old 
revolutionary a much heavier punishment. But 
Hermann would not allow it. 

He thought anxiously of what Frida would say 
to him when he saw her again ; and this hour 
seemed long in coming to him. 

A fortnight after the manifestation, the streets 
quiet, the people terrorized, Hermann set forth 
for Lowenbriin. 

Wilhelmine followed him, as she had said she 
would. 









The Chateau of Orsova was situated two miles 
from Lowenbriin and a half mile from the little 
village of Steinbach, which was part of the royal 
hunting grounds. The old walls which sur- 
rounded the park were almost entirely hidden by 
ivy and brambles. The house was low, and shel- 
tered by immense masses of shrubbery, which 
completely hid it from view, so that people pass- 
ing by on the forest road, unless told of it, 
would never know of this hermitage in the great 
forest. 

The estate had been offered for sale after the 
Marquis of Orsova’ s death ; Hermann had bought 
it secretly, and Frida was installed therein, under 
the name of the Countess Leilof. Her only serv- 
ants were Corporal Gunther, an old soldier, 
rough, but good-hearted, and his granddaughter, 
Katie, pretty, but flighty. The old corporal alone 
was in the Prince’ s secret. 

Gunther cared fairly well for the three or four 
flowerbeds in front of the porch and the kitchen 
garden, hidden behind the stables. Kate swept 


225 







_ - 







226 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

the rooms and did the cooking. Frida was per- 
fectly contented with this. 

She was delighted with this return to rustic 
life. She took long promenades in the park, 
which was much neglected, and where the paths 
were all overgrown with grass ; but the spot she 
loved more than any other was at the far extrem- 
ity of the park, a field of violet heather, in the 
midst of which was a fairly large pond, on which 
floated water lilies, and which the setting sun 
often bathed in blood-red tints. 

At first she had ventured into the surrounding 
woods. It was there one day that she perceived 
that she was followed by a cavalier who resem- 
bled Otto. Happily she was able at a turn in the 
path to plunge into a thicket and thus escape 
him. Since then she had never gone out from 
the grounds surrounding the chateau. 

She wanted to work with her hands, work 
being the duty of all in the ideal society. She 
kept for herself the care of the courtyard, and 
she passed hours with Gunther planting slips. 
And she treated Gunther and Kate on terms of 
equality, which worried the old man and amused 
the girl. 

The rest of the time she devoted to reading 
works on revolutionary sociology, an Utopia 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 227 

filled with vague effusions, or else dry treatises 
of scientific pretensions, in order to confirm her 
in her faith. At evening tide, when the shadows 
lengthened and the flowers glowed more bril- 
liantly under the dying light, and the rounded 
tops of the trees stood out against a golden back- 
ground, or when the sky was gray and lowering, 
and the wind flung the leaves and bared the trees 
of their green dress, she played a little German 

i 

music on the piano, and she felt at one and the 
same time sad and happy, and like those mys- 
tical ones who confound certain delicious troubles 
of their bodies with the sweetness of a condition 
of prayer, as Catherine of Sienna, holding in her 
white hands the head of the martyred one whom 
she loved, she felt a “ flood of milk ” flow 
through her limbs, and recognized in this ecstasy 
an effect and a sign of the grace of God within 
her — thus, while a languor born of her youth 
and her love for a man, crept over Frida in this 
twilight hour, she thought herself more softened 
by her dream of universal charity, and recognized 
in this sweet desire for tears which overcame her 
the sign of a communion, perfect at last, with all 
the scattered souls of the world, and who felt as 
she did, and at this same hour, the approach of 
the beneficent night. 



228 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

Hermann was ever in lier thoughts. She ex- 
perienced intense pleasure in thinking that all 
the great things he was doing in the capital were 
a little due to her. The Prince had come to see 
her several times, and each time he had gone back 
buoyed up by the enthusiasm of his little friend 
and urged on by the contagion of her invincible 
hope. 

A few days before the manifestation of Octo- 
ber 1, she had written to Andotia Latanief, 
whose address she had obtained from Hermann 
without telling him why. Since she had left 

0 

Paris all communication had ceased between 
them, but Frida knew that the old woman could 
not have forgotten her. She explained in her 
letter Hermann’s views and plans, boasted of the 
generosity and kindness of the Prince, begging 
her to believe in it, not to interfere with his work, 
and to preach confidence and patience to the 
people. 

Andotia had made no reply of any kind. 

When Frida learned in a note from Hermann 
of the uprising and the bloody suppression, a 
singular feeling took possession of her. Certainly 
the news made her unhappy ; but it seemed to 
her that she ought to be more so and in another 
manner. She understood that what had just 










PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 229 

happened was horrible, that she ought to demand 
an accounting from Hermann, that he himself 
should have been prepared for what was expected 
of him. And notwithstanding this, what grieved 
her most was not the overthrow for so long a 
time of her dearest ideas, but the sufferings of 
her friend. No matter what she did she thought 
less of the people than she did of Hermann. 
She pictured his despair, determined to reproach 
him in no way, even indirectly, and secretly 
settled uj>on a means of consolation. 

Formerly, notwithstanding her readings and 
her efforts to preserve her faith, the tranquil 
witchery of the woods acted upon her. The 
peace which surrounded her, the companionship 
of the plants and animals, the light intoxication 
of the mornings and the magic of the evenings, 
the feeling of the august fatality of the natural 
laws, whose slow and serene manifestations she 
could see at every moment, all this seemed to 
make it more difficult for her to imagine hu- 
manity living and sorrowing. And while those 
sentiments, whose origin was had in the general 
and abstract representations of human groups, 

became insensibly blunted in the mind of the 

* 

young Nihilist, as a result all that was most 
natural in her, instinctive and simply feminine 









230 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


in her love for the Prince, was absolved and for- 
tified in this solitude. Hermann’s distance from 
her made him more present to her. And already, 
at certain times, the lover put to flight the en- 
thusiast. 

One morning Frida received a note from An- 
dotia Latanief, which contained but these words : 
“I will go to see you this evening. Your old 
friend,” and the signature. 

It was the very day on which Hermann was to 
come to Orsova to see her after nightfall. 


XXIII. 


Gunther, who was helping his granddaughter 
to put the salon in order, called out suddenly in a 
voice full of anger and with raised hand : 

“ Tell me again that it is not true ! ” 

Kate slyly put up her elbow for protection, 
less from fear than from habit. 

“ What, grandfather ? ” 

“ That you danced with that fellow yesterday, 
at the feast in Steinbach.” 

“ You saw me, grandfather?” 

“ I did not see you, but they told me of it.” 
“Who did?” 

“People who saw you. Tell me again that you 
did not dance with him ! ” 

“ Oh ! only once ; but then I do not remember. 
. . . What harm was there in that ? ” 

“A girl who respects herself should only find 
amusement among her friends and acquaintances. 
This man does not belong to this part of the 
country ; nobody knows whence he comes ; and 
it seems he had queer ways with the girls. 
Since the King has been at Lowenbrun a whole 


t 




232 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

lot of idle fellows are roaming about . . . stud- 
grooms and liostlers . . . and I should be very 
much astonished if they are all honest men.” 

“ In any case, grandfather, that one is not an 
hostler. ’ ’ 

“How do you know that ? ” 

“You can easily see it.” 

“How?” 

“By his manners, of course.” 

Gunther made fun of her : 

“ He is perhaps a great lord in disguise.” 

“ I do not say that. But I still say he is a very 
well brought up gentleman.” 

“Very well brought up,” grumbled the old 
corporal, “ someone very well brought up . . . 
W ell, that will not do at all. . . For a long time I 
have known that you were not in the right road. 
You think but of your dress and your pleasure. 
You are always away from home, for one reason 
or another.” 

“I must go and buy the provisions. And 
then, do you think this old house, so far from 
any other and buried in the woods, is always 
gay?” 

‘ ‘ One does not become weary when one works 
and does one’s duty. Listen, my little one, I have 
only thee in all this world. If you are not going 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 233 

to remain an honest girl, that will make me very 
unhappy. Besides, I do not know why, but it 
seems to me that you are disposed to go wrong. 
Holy God, if that should happen ! 57 

Once more the old man lifted his hand, and 
once more Kate warded off with her elbow the 
box on the ear, which did not come. This was 
a double mechanical movement which generally 
accompanied their conversations, and which gen- 
erally resulted in nothing. 

He was a simple man, born to perform all his 
duties without questioning : his duty as a soldier 
and a subject ; his duty as a Christian, a husband, 
and a father ; his duty as a gamekeeper. On his 
retirement from service, after serving three terms, 
he had married a delicate little peasant, who had 
died, leaving him a daughter. At eighteen this 
daughter had been wronged by a strolling laborer ; 
she had given birth to Catherine, and had passed 
away a few years afterward, dying in a decline? 
from sorrow and because Gunther made life too 
hard for her. And Kate had grown up beside her 
grandfather, awkwardly directed by his rough 
hands, mistrusting himself in his heart, for the 
old man repented being so pitiless toward Kate’s 
mother, and his scolding kindness for his little 
grandchild became greater from this old remorse. 


234 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

However, he perceived that at certain moments 
Kate escaped him. She was pretty, but not 
altogether after the fashion becoming to an honest 
girl. Her lips were too red and too thick, her 
eyes, without her knowledge, attracted the men. 
Besides, she was slovenly, badly fitted into her 
clothes, from which buttons were missing, and 
which did not seem to hold her together. But she 
had all the little coquetries of a daughter of Bo- 
hemia; she wore glass jewelry and great bunches 
of scarlet ribbons, and her hair had a way of 
standing out in all directions, as though she had 
given her heavy tresses a hasty twist upon get- 
ting out of bed. All this shocked the old soldier, 
used to the minute, exactness of exterior disci- 
pline. More than once he had discovered in a 
corner of Kate’s cupboard gew-gaws, rings, and 
brass chains, and he had demanded to know from 
whence they came. She said she had bought 
them with her savings (for she sewed for the 
ladies in Steinbach), and the old man had not 
pushed his investigations any further. She was 
an industrious girl. Unknown to himself, he 
had succumbed to the equivocal charm which 
emanated from her. He would be on the look- 

I 

out. But the girl was smart enough to evade his 
grumbling vigilance, and to prevent his suspicions 
from becoming verified. 


PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 235 

The truth was that all the stablemen of the 
royal stables, whom she met at Steinbacli as she 
went for her provisions, were her friends, pro- 
vided they were young and handsome. She 
asked nothing of them but a smile, a glass of 
lemonade, sometimes a fichu or a knot of imi- 
tation lace. 

If she had not flirted at once with Prince Otto, 
though she had found him out to be a man 
“ very well brought up,” it was because she 
had found him, nevertheless, a little faded. 

Faded indeed he was. The cares of the last 
few months had blanched his' temples, hollowed 
his cheeks, and puffed out his eyes. His chateau 
at Stengel sold, a judgment placed by Issachar 
on his annual income of twelve hundred thou- 
sand francs, shunned, mortified, covered with 
public contumely, he had come to bury himself 
at Lowenbriin, and chafed against his exile. As 
he had neither in his heart nor in his brain the 
means of whiling away honestly his many idle 
hours, his solitude was peopled with shameful 
dreams. 

Otto was used to disguises. Besides, he bore 
but very little resemblance to the popular chromos 
which pretended to reproduce his features, and, 
besides, the type to which he allied himself was 


236 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 

so common in Alfaine that lie ran little risk of 
being recognized. 

Kate never suspected for an instant that this 
hail-fellow-well-met, dressed as a bourgeois, who 
joked with her and made her drink with him 
at the Kernilsse of Steinbach, could possibly be 
a prince of the royal blood. Only she thought 
him 44 distinguished,” why she knew not, and 
that under the nonchalance of his manners he 
frightened her. As to Otto, his blood boiled at 
the first glance cast upon her, and he felt that he 
had found what he was looking for, the possi- 
bility of a new sensation. 

Gunther’s cuff remained in* the air. The pretty 
girl approached the old man and kissed him on 
both his tanned cheeks. The old man permitted 
it, grumbling away, still unconvinced. 

64 Grandfather,” she questioned in a coaxing 
voice, 4 4 you know what they say, that the 
Princes are at Lowenbriin with the Princess Wil- 
helmine? ” 

44 Yes, yes, but what matters that to you ? ” 

44 You know them ? ” she insisted. 

44 Yes, I know them.” 

44 You have seen them often ? ” 

44 1 saw Prince Hermann when he was very lit- 
tle and I was a soldier. I saw him again a little 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT, 237 

later, when I was a servant to one of the ord- 
nance officers of the King ... I have also met 
Prince Otto now and again.” 

“ What do they look like ? ” 

44 Like all the world. But hurry up ; madame 
will soon be in. . . She has gone to gather 
some bouquets.” 

“Then we have plenty of time, for she is a 
person who loves flowers.” 

44 She also loves animals. Ah! she is a good 
little woman ! ” 

44 She always defends me, too.” 

“That is not the best thing she does.” 

Kate continued : 

“ She seems very happy to-day ! ” And then 
she added with a cunning air : 

“ I know why.” 

4 4 Ah ! ’ ’ said Gunther, a little uneasily. 

4 4 She expects monsieur this evening. . . What 
time does he come ? ” 

44 1 do not' know ; some time to-night,” Gun- 
ther replied gruffly. 

4 4 Has he already arrived ? ” 

44 No.” 

44 1 have an idea.” 

44 It ought to be a silly one, then.” 

44 1 have an idea that they are not married.” 


238 


PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 


\ 


“Wliat are you saying? What have you 
seen ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Oh ! lots of things. Why is madame here 
always alone, and why does she never leave the 
park ? And why does he never come in the day- 
time? Why?” 

Gunther interrupted her roughly: 

“What business is it of yours? You would 
have done better to have kept your idea to your- 
self. And besides, it would never have come into 
the head of an honest girl and one who thought 
but of doing right.” 

Mechanically the heavy hand was raised, 
and mechanically Kate’s arm was raised to the 
level of her jetty crimps. 

“ Ah, well ! ” she murmured, “ they can tell 
me nothing.” 




XXIV. 

Frida looked radiantly happy as she entered 
the salon , her arms filled with wild flowers. 

“ See what a quantity of flowers.” 

She threw herself on the sofa and commenced 
to arrange them in bouquets. 

“ Has madame gathered all those flowers? ” 
asked Gunther. 

“ I should think so ! ” 

“Ah, well! madame has not wasted her 
time.” 

Frida became serious : 

“Do not say it like that, Gunther; I have 
already asked you to say: 6 Ah, well, madame, 
you have not wasted your time ! 5 ” 

“But . . . I do it out of respect, madame.” 

“This has nothing to do with respect, Gunther 
. . . and as to myself, it is not your respect 
I want, but your friendship.” 

“ Oh, madame ! ” exclaimed Gunther, startled. 

“Yes, that is what I want. Is everything in 
readiness ? ” 

“Nearly, madame.” 


239 


240 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

44 Thank you. . . Ah! Kate, will you do 
me a favor ?” 

44 Why certainly, madame.” 

44 There are no more tea cakes, my child, 
and we must have some for this evening. Will 
you go into Steinbacli and get some ? ” 

44 1 will go immediately, madame.” 

Kate was not only delighted at the idea of 
strolling about a little, she was also glad to obey 
Frida, whom she loved for her beauty and good- 
ness, and for other reasons which she could not 
easily have explained clearly. From what Frida 
let her see, in their intimate conversations, of her 
humanitarian dreams, she divined in a confused 
manner that her mistress’ ideas implied a can- 
did and almost unlimited tolerance ; and no 
doubt Frida’s pure character inspired this more 
sensual nature with an involuntary respect ; and 
she would have died of shame if u La Dame” 
had found out how she lived ; but of one thing 
she felt certain, and that was that even had Frida 
known she would not have treated her unkindly. 
And now that she suspected Frida of having a 
lover, and yet without looking upon the moral 
distance as being lessened between them, Kate 
loved her all the more. 

44 It would have surprised me had she shown 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


241 




any reluctance to go, 5 ’ grumbled Gunther. ‘ ‘ Go, 
my girl, and do not loiter on your way to talk to 
your beaux.” 

“ She does that sometimes, then?” asked 
Frida. 

“Muck too often, madame.” 

“But Kate is a wise girl, and she knows what 
to allow them to say to her and what she must 
not listen to.” 

“By my faith you are right, madame,” said 
Kate. 

“You always believe the best of her, madame,” 
said the old corporal. 

“It is better than thinking bad of her, and it 
does not cost any more. And sometimes good is 
born of believing in it. Go, Kate, and do not be 
too long away, all the same.” 

When the girl had left the room Gunther 
said : 

“ You are too good to her, madame.” 

“And you too harsh and fault-finding, Gun- 
ther.” 

“ I have my reasons for being so, madame. She 
gives me great uneasiness, that little one. When 
I speak to her you would say her thoughts were 
elsewhere, and I am afraid they are where they 
should not be. She has no one but me — I have 


/ 


242 PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 

no one but lier. Virtue is the best of her gifts ; 
therefore I watch over her. I do not wish to 
reproach myself later on.” 

“ Well, you must tell her all this, but kindly ; 
and, above all, you must make her feel that you 
love her.” 

Frida had finished arranging her flowers in the 
jardiniere . She stood back a little to judge of 
the effect. 

“Is it not pretty like that, Gunther ? ” 

“ That goes without saying, madame ! ” 

“ It will give him pleasure. . . I am so afraid 
that he will be sad ! ” 

“ Why, madame ? ” 

“Those horrible things which have just hap- 
pened at Marbourg. It must have cost him such 
pain to be forced to act as he did.” 

“Oh, as for me, madame, if I were in my 
lord’s place those things would not prevent me 
from sleeping.” 

“ Gunther ! ” 

“Do you want my opinion, madame? Well, 
then, they did not shake them up enough.” 
“How can you say that, Gunther? Just 
remember that there were women and children 
found among the slain.” 

“ That is sad ; I do not say it is not. But it is 


PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 243 

their own fault. Why were they there ? It was 

not the place for them. As to the others ” 

“ There were, perhaps, among those people a 
great many suffering, desperate mortals. The 
rich are often very harsh toward the poor. 
Everything is not regulated for the best in 
society, Gunther.” 

u 01i, madame ! I do not go so far as that. 
There must be rich and there must be poor, 
because that has always been seen, and because 
it will always be seen, and because it will only 
cease to recommence again. It is probably 
natural. Those who wish to change the govern- 
ment are for the most part fanatics and not any 
great shakes. I have often remarked that. 
Besides, if you want my idea, it is perhaps not 
to be so very happy that the good Lord has put 
us on earth. And, on the other side, if every 
one accepts his lot and does his duty in the cor- 
ner in which he is put, there will still remain 
misery, but there will be less of it, and this is all 
I can tell you.” 

“ In other words, Gunther, if we do not try to 
make men better and more charitable we will 
never succeed in making them less unhappy.” 
u That is just what I think, madame.” 

“But in order that the poor may become 


244 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

better, is it not necessary for tlie rich to become 
so first ? Is it not for them to commence ? ” 
“That is true. But what can you do about 
it ? You cannot force them to it.” 

“Who knows? You can at least make them 
reflect. I think that is the Prince’s idea. He 
wants to be, before anything else, the poor peo- 
ple’s king.” 

“That he may be blessed for that idea. But 
do you not see that all the same there are a 
great many unhappy ones, who are so by their 
own fault and because they will neither work nor 
obey? And you can do nothing with these peo- 
ple. According to my way of thinking, my lord 
is too good ; he dreams of impossible tilings ; he 
has ideas which no one in his rank has ever 
had before. This does not make you angry, to 
hear me talk thus, madame ?” 

“No, Gunther ! ” 

Frida remained silent. The old man’s reflec- 
tions struck her forcibly. Life had been mostly 
hard for this poor man ; from the age of fourteen 
or fifteen years he had tilled the earth, his days 
consisting of twelve hours hard labor, the recom- 
pense of which had been but meager, the greater 
part of it going toward the rent ; then fifteen 
years in the army, three campaigns, during which 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 245 

he had risked his life for the paltry handful of 
coins, the price of his re-enlistment ; his return 
to country life, and then again for thirty-five years 
a life of laborious poverty, until the day on 
which Hermann had made him guardian of the 
chateau. But Gunther was resigned ; he had been 
even before he received the modest home pro- 
vided for his old age. “It is' perhaps not to be 
so very happy that the good Lord has put us on 
earth,” he had said. If this was true? If these 
poor, resigned creatures were right ? 

But their resignation presupposed a God, 
Providence, and the personal after-life of souls. 
Frida did not believe in this, and from that 
point the faith of these poor people appeared to 
her like an imposition on their credulity. It 
made her sad and irritated her at the same time, 
as she thought of the frightful quantity of evils 
that the expectation of an eternal justice caused 
them to accept ; of the lamentable drafts drawn 
by human misery on a God who escaped them in 
the end. And, had he not escaped them, would 
men have suffered less ? The injustice and sorrow, 
even though transitory, swelled this young rebel’s 
heart with indignation, and the good and simple 
creatures who submitted as Gunther did caused 
her surprise and an unspeakable compassion. 


246 PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 

And nevertheless, though she herself obeyed 
the rules of no belief, or any imposed or revealed 
law, the antiquity and marvelous efficacy of the 
faith and the rule which directed the rude 
thoughts and humble life of this old man 
impressed Frida. Several times she had asked 
herself what he thought of her in his inmost 
heart, this honest representative of tradition. 
The idea that he might think of her as the 
Prince’ s mistress was intolerable to her. Though 
she admitted in theory, with her revolutionary 
friends, the legitimacy of free love, and did not 
condemn it in others, yet she was invincibly 
chaste. Carnal desire slept in her as in a child ; 
even when in Hermann’s society the languor 
which often seized her was free from sensuality ; 
it was a charm which feared caresses, and in fact 
all expressive or demonstrative caresses drove it 
away. And though she repudiated the secular 
principles in whose name the old man judged 
her, no doubt, she could not stand the thought 
that he might condemn her. 

She ceased arranging her flowers for a moment, 
looked at Gunther straight in the face, and said 
very gravely : 

“No, Gunther, you do not make me angry. 
At the same time I ask you to become bold. I 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 247 

have a weight on my heart which I wish to lift 
from it. You love the Prince Hermann ? You 
are devoted to him entirely ? ” 

“ I belong to my lord. He can ask what he 
pleases of me — even my heart’s blood.” 

“ You not only love him, but you esteem 
him?” 

“Oh, madame ! that word . . . and from me 
to him ! ’ ’ 

“Answer me. You believe him incapable of 
doing a wicked act, in failing in what you look 
upon in your condition as an essential duty ? ” 

“ Yes, madame . . . but I do not understand 
you.” 

Frida found what she had to say was more 
embarrassing than she had imagined. At last 
. she said : 

“What is your idea on the subject of Princess 
Wilhelmine ? ”* 

“I have none, madame. I have never even 
seen her. They say she is very proud and that 
she does not often show herself.” 

“Ho you think she has reason to be un- 
happy ? ” 

“How can I know that, madame?” 

“ I beg you to reply to me, Gunther. Your 
reply is worth much to me, is very important to 


248 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 


me, because you have a brave heart and because 
I honor you.” 

And all at once she continued without waiting 
for his reply : 

“When the Prince comes here, what do you 
think of him and of me ? ” 

Gunther was very much embarrassed. 

“ I think nothing, madame. The great are the 
great, and I do not know what I would do if I 
were a prince ” 

She interrupted him at this word. 

“You must not say that, Gunther. Princes 
are but men, and you have the right to judge 
them according to your ideas of right and 
wrong.” 

But Gunther eluded her questions. 

“I am entirely devoted to my lord. I exe- 
cute the orders he gives me without questioning 
even my own heart. There is no necessity for me 
to know the wherefores to obey.” 

He added, as though he could not help him- 
self : 

“ And, besides, I would rather not know.” 

“Ah! I can see that you do think some- 
thing ! ’ ’ 

The old man blushed like a young girl. 

“I, madame ?” 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 249 

Then Frida continued : 

“ Gunther, you reproached me a little while 
ago with always thinking the best of everyone. 
And now I say to you : ‘ Gunther ! Gunther ! do 
not think evil of us ! ’ ” 

The purity of her look and the frankness of 
her voice was a sufficient witness to her veracity. 
This at least was Gunther’s opinion. He looked 
upon this strange appeal to his judgment, and 
this unexpected justification, as being the great- 
est honor ever paid him in his life as a poor man. 
Very much agitated, he stammered forth : 

“What! this from you who . . . tome . . . 
to me. . .” 

His eyes Avere dim with unshed tears, and not 
knowing just what he was doing, he seized one of 
her little hands and covered it with kisses. 

“No, no, madame, I will no longer believe 
it.” 

Frida was radiant. 

“Thank you, Gunther,” she said; “and now 
do you know what I want you to do ? I have 
not enough flowers here for all the vases, and I 
saw such beautiful ones below on the edge of the 
lake . . .* orris and gladiole. . . But I could 
not reach them. Come with me and gather them 
for me.” 



250 PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 

$ 

‘ ‘ All that you want, madame, ’ ’ cried the old 
man with effusion. 

“That lake is very beautiful. So blue! so 
blue ! ” 

“Yes, the Lady’s Lake, you mean ?” 

“ Is that what they call it ? I could have sworn 
that it had a history.” 

Gunther made an affirmative sign. 

“ A story of love % ” 

“Naturally!” 

“ And of death ?” 

“Yes . . . they are very often the same 
thing.” 

“You will tell it to me as we walk along, 
Gunther.” 


XXV. 


Kate, out of breath and uttering little cries of 
fright, rushed into the deserted salon , closely 
followed by Otto. He had spied her crossing 
the market place in Steinbach, with her basket 
on her arm ; he had followed her and had entered 
the little door of the park wall so quickly that 
she had not had time to close it after her. 

She crouched in a corner, pretending to defend 
herself, half laughing, half angry, her hair tum- 
bled in her eyes, her dress rumpled, and great 
drops of perspiration standing on her forehead. 

Otto caught her hand. 

“ Ah ! ah ! I have you, little witch . 55 

“Leave me alone. I tell you, leave me 
alone ! 55 

She called out : 

“ Grandfather ! 55 

“Do not call so loud, he will hear you. 5 * 

“You are fooling , 55 she said, with a little pout. 

“ Mon Dieu! 55 he cried modestly. 

Then he continued : 

“And if he should hear you, if he should 

251 


252 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

think himself obliged to return ; and if he 
comes ... I, well, I can always get out of a 
scrape of this kind ; I have an excuse always 
ready on these occasions. But you, you will be 

scolded ” 

“And beaten.” 

“And beaten.” 

He left her and drew near to one of the win- 
dows. 

“Happily your grandfather is already far 
away. He is over there at the turning with a 
lady. . . What is this lady like ? Her umbrella 
hinders me from seeing her plainly. . . They 
have turned the path ; there is nobody here. 
Who is this lady ? ” 

“ It is madame.” 

“ Madame who?” 

“You are very curious.” 

“Well, never mind, it is no business of mine.” 
He came up close to her and took her hand 
again. 

“Let me alone,” said the girl, flattered never, 
theless. 

“No, I think this is the best way for talking. 

. . . Ah ! do you remember what I promised you 
yesterday evening? ” 

He took a box from his pocket. 












“ Here ! ” 

“ What have you got there ? ” 

“Look.” 

The box contained some cheap, gaudy jewelry. 
The trick was not a new one ; but it amused him 
to play the part of a hero in a village flirta- 
tion. 

“ Do you think them pretty ? ” 

“ Surely.” 

“ Then keep them.” 

“ It is not worth while ; I could not put them 
on.” 

“Why?” 

“ What would the old man say ? ” 

“Then let us say no more about them.” 

And he put the box back in his pocket. 

“ No, let us talk of them no more,” said Kate, 
with a sigh. “ And now you must go.” 

“ Presently.” 

He seated himself, and drew her toward him. 
“ It is a pity.” 

“ What is a pity ? ” • 

“That you should be shut up in a lonesome 
place like this.” 

4 4 What do you mean ? 5 ’ 

44 With no better prospect than to marry a 
brute, who will make you work from morning 




4 | 




/<• 


254 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 

until night ; you will have a dozen children and 
lose all your good looks.” 

“ Well, that is true,” said the girl in a stifled 
voice. 

“ Par bonheur , there is that in your eyes 
which reassures me. Do you know wliat those 
eyes say ? ” 

“ Yes, they tell me that they see.” 

“They say that you would like to have a 
pretty little room at Marbourg.” 

“ At Marbourg ? ” 

Kate’s eyes sparkled. 

“And then on Sunday we will take a walk in 

the country, we will dine beside the water ” 

“Listening to pretty music,” she continued in 
a sentimental tone of voice. 

“Yes, listening to pretty music. And the lit- 
tle wife will have pretty dresses and bonnets and 
jewelry ” 

Kate could contain herself no longer. 

“ Show me the box.” 

“ And your grandfather ? ” 

“ Oh, I will hide it carefully. . . But I will 
only put them on when I am alone ! ” 

“ You are delicious.” 

She put the box quickly into the pocket of her 
gown and covered it over with her handkerchief. 






PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 255 

“ And now, for the present, you must go.” 

But Otto did not stir. 

“I have plenty of time. And now, since we 
are good friends . . . for we are good friends, 
are we not ? Listen to me,” he said. “ I will not 
go until I know where I will see you again.” 

“ Where you will see me again ? That is not 
easily done.” 

“It will be easy if you wish to make it so.” 

“ If I wish. . . But if I do not wish to ?” 

“ You do not wish to, and why ? ” 

“ Because I have not a mind to.” 

“And why do you not want to ? ” 

“I cannot tell you, for it will make you angry. 
Go, now.” 

She hesitated for a moment, and then said : 

“ Well, then, I think you are too old ! ” 

And as though she had said something exceed- 
ingly comical, she burst out laughing, and 
laughed so heartily and boisterously that she 
shook the chair upon which she sat. 

“You are a fool,” he said ; “ you do not know 
what you are refusing.” 

Kate laughed no longer. 

“ Where do you live ? ” she asked. 

“In the hunting lodge, near the gateway.” 

She dragged him toward the window. v 


256 PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 

“ There, you can see a point of the roof between 
the trees ? ’ 5 

“ Yes, that is it, on the other side of the gate. 
When will you meet me again ? And do you 
think you can come out to-night without wak- 
ing anyone up?” 

“Oh, monsieur!” 

“Can you ? ” 

“ Perhaps I can.” 

“And will you marry me ? ” 

“Oh, monsieur! That would be wicked; I 
have only just met you.” 

“But I will marry you ! Have I not told you 
so?” 

“No, no, you will never marry me.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because you are too much above me.” 

“Ah, you have found that out, you little 
witch ? ” he said, very much delighted. “ Listen 
to me ; I am going out by the little door of the 
park. You have forgotten to take the key out 
of the lock. I will carry it away with me. And 
after nightfall I will wait for you in the fir 
grove. Will you come ? ” 

“And the old man? He mistrusts me, as you 
know ; if he should surprise us it would be no 
joke.” 


257 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

“ So much the better. This excites me.” 

“ You are very funny.” 

“ Oh, no . . . but you will come ? ” 

“ I cannot decide now.” 

“Yes, yes, you will come. Your eyes tell 
me so.” 

“ But you must go, monsieur.” 

“This time I am willing. Provided,” he 
added, casting his eyes out of the window, “ there 
is no one in sight.” 

“ That makes no difference, go. I must unpack 
my basket and finish my work. . . . Good- 
evening, monsieur.” 

“ For a while. You will come ? ” 

“ I cannot tell.” 

“You are an angel. But how must I go to 
get out of here ?” 

Kate pointed to a green door cut in an angle of 
the wall. 

“ That way, if you wish. You need only steal 
behind the trees.” 

She went into the dining room, leaving the 
door half open behind her. Otto, left alone, 
looked around him. He was struck by the 
beauty of the furnishings ; the furniture was a 
little worn, but very rich. An antique cabinet 
showed in the complication of its carvings a shield 


258 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

bearing the coat of arms of the Royal House of 
Marbourg. And in the midst of these old things 
great bunches of freshly gathered flowers : there 
was a festal air all around him. 

‘ ‘ Ah ! ” he muttered, ‘ ‘ where the devil am I ? ” 
He called her : 

“Kate!” 

“ You have not gone yet,” she replied from the 
adjoining room. 

“What is the name of your mistress ? ” 

“ What business is that of yours? ” 

“And you, what harm would it do you to tell 
me ? ” 

“She is called the Countess Leilof.” 

“ How long has she lived here ? ” 

“ About three months.” • 

Otto remembered that Frida had left the Court 
about three months ago. At the same time the 
remembrance flashed across his mind of the 
unknown whom he had seen that day in the 
forest and whose figure had reminded him so 
forcibly of Mile, de Thalberg. 

“ Is she alone ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ What does she look like ? ” 

“Not very tall, but pretty ! and such a 
voice ! ” 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT . 259 

“ Brunette?” - 

u No.” 

“ Blonde ? ” 

“Yes, if you wish.” 

“ For three months . . . alone . . . not very 
tall . . . blonde, if you wish to call her so . . . 
and such a voice ! No, no, that would be too 
good,” he thought. “I do not deserve it, mon 
Dieu ! ” 

He questioned her again : 

“ Is she a widow ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Do you know her husband ? ” 

“I have never seen him. Grandfather has 
seen him often.” 

“ Does he come often ?” 

“ I do not know.” 

u Confess that he is coming this evening.” 

“ Why do you say that ? ” 
u These flowers are in honor of someone. It 
is as clear as day. . .” 

“I do not know,” the young girl repeated, 
astonished, a little late, it is true, at Otto’s insist- 
ence, and suddenly becoming suspicious. , , 
41 But will you please go % ” 
u Yes, my love ; I am very willing to go now.” 
Otto went out by way of the terrace, gained 


260 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

the little park gate by gliding in the shadow of 
the trees, and forgot to lock it. 

A man with a horse awaited him in an inn at 
Steinbach, an old police officer’, who was accus- 
tomed to accompanying him when he traveled 
any distance. 

Otto traced a few lines in a disguised hand on 
a piece of paper, sealed it, and said to the man : 
“ This must be given secretly, before nightfall, 
to the Princess Wilhelmine.” 

It seemed very amusing to him to thus play 
the role of traitor in the melodrama. However, 
he reflected that he had a rendezvous that even- 
ing with the granddaughter of the old corporal, 
and, if anything mysterious was passing in the 
house, might he not be too near for his own tran- 
quillity to the theatre des evenements t But he 
quickly reassured himself. 

“On the contrary, that would be very funny. 
. . . Besides, what do I risk ? And then, perhaps 
I am mistaken, and there is nothing at all. . . 
Well, we will see. . . I think that this time I 
hold a sensation.” 


XXVI. 


Frida had finished arranging the iris and gladi- 
ola, which she had brought with her from the 
Lady’s Lake, in great loose bunches, in vases of 
old Saxony ware, when Gunther announced that 
4 ‘ the lady she was expecting ’ ’ was here. 

Andotia appeared on the threshold in a black 
dress and mantle, thin and worn looking, her hair 
almost white, and her eyes wild and spectral. 

Frida ran toward her to embrace her, but the 
old woman stopped her : 

“Swear to me first,” she said, “that it is not 
a stranger I find now, and that the lady of honor 
to the Princess Royal is the same loving child 
whom I knew in Paris ! ” 

“ And do you doubt it, my mother ? ” 

“ Do you still feel pity for the oppressed ? ” 

“ With all my heart ! ” 

“That you love them more than any other in 
the world ? ” 

“ I think I do.” 

“And that you are capable of sacrificing your- 
self entirely for the holy cause?” 


201 


262 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

* 4 I hope so,” answered Frida, beginning to be 
a little uneasy. 

4 4 Then come to me,” cried the old woman. 

And she imprinted the kiss of a religious on 
the young girl’s forehead. 

4 4 But you,” said Frida, 44 what has become of 
you since we were separated ? How did you 
come to Marbourg ? How have you lived 
since ? ’ ’ 

44 1 have been teaching children, and the poor 
fed me. But what does that matter ? I was able 
to live, as I am here. There are other things 
more important to talk about.” 

Rapidly and in a clear voice she continued : 

4 4 The moment in which to act has come. Tlife 
people have suffered so much that they are ready. 
Sooner than I thought possible — never has the 
occasion seemed more propitious — at last the 
people can see their dream about to be realized. 
What is there between their dream and them- 
selves? Nothing, almost nothing. Behind 
Prince Hermann there stands but this puny child 
and that miserable Otto, who is depised by his 
own class even. Let us suppose Hermann disap- 
pears, the throne crumbles — the revolution fol- 
lows, and the republic is born. This is what I 
have to say to you.” 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT . 263 

Her eves flashed under her bands of white hair. 

•/ 

She drew'a revolver from underneath her cloak 

A. 

and placed it on a cabinet near her. 

“The people,” she continued, “have con- 
demned Hermann for his last butchery. They 
count upon you to put the sentence into execu- 
tion.” 

“Upon me — upon me!” 

It was as though a glass of ice water had been 
thrown over Frida. She staggered, being still 
unable to understand, more stupefied at first than 
indignant. This little old woman, dressed in 
^lack, who, all at once, from the depths of the 
past, appeared before her to tell her these things, 
frightened her like an apparition. She remem- 
bered. She saw again, like a flash, her first 
meeting with Andotia. She recalled the fact 
that this old woman had saved her from hunger ; 
that her whole life had been one of rigorous vir- 
tue, intense pity, forgetfulness of self, an abso- 
lute sacrifice to one idea. Even then it was 
evident that Andotia was not obedient to an ego- 
tistical passion, that she was but pronouncing an 
impersonal sentence ; and that was why the feel- 
ing which overpowered Frida was like a sacred 
horror, parallel to that of a believer upon whom a 
priest has imposed some frightful immolation. 




264 PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 

Andotia continued : 

“ Do you understand ? ” 

Yes, Frida understood ; she was ghastly, and 
remained dumb because she had understood. At 
last with a great effort she said : 

‘ ‘ This is what you have come to ask of me ? 
It is for this that you have reappeared at the 
end of three years ? ’ ’ 

She repeated in a frightened way : 

“ For this ! For this ! ” 

Andotia replied : 

“Formerly, in Paris, do you still remember? 
we celebrated together the memory of o heroes 
and our martyrs. And you admired them, you 
honored them with your tears. You cherished 
them in your heart. Besides, what had they 
done other than what the people expect of you 
to-day?” 

“They had killed tyrants, wicked, hateful 
beings, the enemies of humanity. But Her- 
mann ’ ’ 

“Prince Hermann is perhaps moi'e guilty 
than all of them, for he is more of a hypocrite. 
He but soothed the people with fine promises, in 
order to massacre them with less peril ; and to 
the cruelty of ‘repression,’ as they say, he has 
added the perfidy of guet-apens.’’' 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 265 

And while she spoke all the old revolutionary 
defiance, the old mania of suspicion and accusa- 
tion of the popular conspirators of all times, 
illuminated her eyes with a strange fire. 

“ It is not true ! ” cried the young girl, “it is 
not true ! I ought to know him well ! I have 
never known a more tender heart, or a more heroic 
soul. I wrote all this to you and you did not 
deign to reply to me. What he did you forced 
him to, and you know it well. But what you do 
not know is the tears of blood which the accom- 
plishment of what he thought to be his duty has 
cost him. You did not wish to understand his 
thoughts, but that is not his fault. Think rather 
of what he had done before that unhappy day, of 
the hatred he had raised against himself before 
he encountered yours ! ” 

“ It matters not ! And even if I consented to 
believe you ! If lie is not willfully wicked, then 
he is so through his position. So much the 
worse for him ! Men like him with their half 
lights and their slight inclination toward just'ice, 
which are contrary to the necessities and the prej- 
udices of their state, are more dangerous for us 
than the most absolute despots, for they are 
able to prolong, by the false hopes which they give 
to the ignorant and timid ones, the ignominy of 


266 PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 

the old world. For this, I repeat to you, Prince 
Hermann is condemned. I foresaw your dismay 
and your first objections — nevertheless I counted 
upon you. Tell me if I am mistaken.” 

Frida longed to cry out : “ Certainly you are 

mistaken, and what you have arranged is in- 
famous ! ” But before this stony face, which 
told of such superhuman will and of such obdu- 
racy of heroism, she was ashamed and was silent ; 
she did not dare let her own heart speak, nor 
give the true reason of her tearful weakness. 

“Thus,” she said, “ when you sent me here it 
was for murder and treason ! ” 

“All those glorious murders, all those which 
saved cities and freed people, were they 
treasons ? ’ ’ 

“But Hermann pardoned you.” 

“That was but a snare.” 

“ Only recently he spared you. It was through 
him that your last sentence was so light a one. 
He was never unjust to you.” 

“ And do you believe that I think of myself ? ” 
“Alas! You, whom I have seen so good to 
the weak and afflicted, so compassionate to 
women and children ! ” 

“It is of them that I am thinking to-day.” 
Frida, unnerved, felt with despair that she 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 267 

would be conquered in this struggle of words. She 
felt as though she were being strangled. Sud- 
denly her whole heart burst forth in a great cry : 
“ No, no ! Go away ! It is too cowardly ; do 
you not see it is too cowardly ! ” 

The old woman replied more kindly : 

‘‘Murder is not cowardly when it is eternal 
justice and eternal love which commands it, 
when the hand that kills is disinterested ; and 
besides, the blow is rapid, and adds no suf- 
fering to death. Murder is not cowardly when 
the murderer, in advance, has made the sacrifice 
of his life. As for me, I hold mine as nothing.” 
Then she continued in a harsher tone : 

“Ah, yes! it is easy and delightful to love 
justice and to have pity on the oppressed, when 
everything is like a dream and a flow of fine 
words. You thought this would last forever ; 
and when it is a question of putting your hand 
to the work, for the good of the cause, of killing 
or of dying, then it seems hard to you ; you are 
overcome with disgust, and your tender heart 
revolts. Oh, oh ! which one of us two is the 
coward ? ’ 5 

“ Go away ! ” cried Frida. “ Go away ! ” 

The old woman did not stir, but her voice was 
not so harsh : 


268 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

“ You refuse positively, Frida ? ” 

“ Yes, I refuse.” 

“ Then come with me.” 

“ With you ? ” 

“Yes, with me. Friends await you not far 
from here, at the inn which is at the junction of 
the roads to Steinbacli and Keichdorf. I thought 
you were stronger ; do not let us talk any more 
on the subject. But as your heart is too weak 
to accomplish what we expected of you, there is 
nothing more for you to do here.” 

“But ” 

‘ ‘ Did you think, then, that if I could bear to 
separate myself from you, from you, my dearest 
child, and that I could send you to this despicable 
court, it was to allow your life to run riot in lux- 
ury and idleness, while our brothers were dying 
of hunger ? Have you really the soul of a maid 
of honor % Come, my child ; Prince Hermann 
must not find you here.” 

Frida covered her face with her hands, and, 
weeping, replied : 

“ I love him ! ” 

The white-haired virgin was seized with an 
access of anger : 

“That is the speech of a coward! You love him! 
That is what you have come to! A miserable love 




269 


PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 





affair ; this is what all your beautiful thoughts, 
your magnanimous plans, and the forgotten wor- 
ship of your grandfather, the martyr, have come 
to ! You love the Prince % A fine reason to give 
me ! What does that matter to us ? Did I tell 
you to love ? You must love him no longer ; that 
is all there is to it. You must love no one ; for 
to love is but to live for the loved one, and to live 
for him is to live only for yourself. Ah, ah ! I 
know them — your cowardice and your pride, your 
low loves. You must love all mankind. Love, as 
you understand it, is a theft from humanity.” 
But Frida repeated : 

“I love him ! ” 

“ Good-by, then!” 

Andotia walked quickly to the door. Reach- 
ing the threshold she turned back, and, lifting the 
right hand, as if for a curse : 

“Mile, de Thalberg, since the granddaughter 
of Kariskine, who died in a Russian prison, sees 
no more beautiful destiny to-day than to be the 
mistress of a slaughterer of the people, in the 
name of the twelve hundred unhappy ones mas- 
sacred by the order of the Prince Royal, I 
denounce you ” 

Frida threw herself upon her, forced her to 
lower her uplifted arm, and cried out : 




270 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

* 

“My mother! my mother! I will obey you. 
Listen to me. Yes, yes, I will obey you. What 
you wish is this, is it not ? — that the Prince shall 
disappear in order to make the revolution a pos- 
sible thing. But provided he disappears, you 
do not make it a condition that he dies, and you 
cannot insist upon my assassinating my friend ? 
Yes, it is true, I love him. Not as you think, 
though. I love him because he thinks in his 
heart the same things that you do, and he 
merits some praise for that. And I am not his 
mistress, I swear to you ! Only I adore him and 
I would rather die than leave him. Well, if he 
loves me enough, or if he is disgusted sufficiently 
with his role as King to renounce it forever, to 
give up all right to the throne, to everything (I 
will not be foolish, you will see), if I persuade 
him to abandon everything and to go away with 
me, to-morrow, this evening, perhaps, will I not 
deserve your pardon ? Shall I not have worked 
faithfully for our cause ? For you have said it : 
it is not the man you hate, it is the Prince Royal. 
Let me try this, and do not curse me afterward.” 

Frida’ s voice was so sincere, so true ; her trans- 
parent eyes revealed her candid and crucified 
soul so clearly that the old woman allowed her- 
self to be softened, and maternally placed her 


7 - 


PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 271 

hand upon the young girl’ s forehead and golden 
tresses. 

“Poor little one ! ” she murmured. 

Then becoming stone once more : 

“So be it! I will await you! But if, failing 
in your undertaking, you remain here, remember, 
Frida, you will be the vilest of creatures. With 
the Prince or without him, you must return to us. 
Au revoir ! ’ ’ 


XXVII. 


Gunther had just lighted the lamp. 

“ You have no further need of me, madame?” 

“No, Gunther.” 

“ Good-evening and good-night, madame.” 

“ Good- night.” 

Frida seated herself at the piano and com- 
menced to play one of Schumann’s Lieder slowly 
and with heavy fingers. Outside the night was 
soft and sweet; it was bright moonlight, and 
the fresh whiffs of vegetable odors came to Frida 
through the half-opened French window. 

The music alone, rhyming with the moments of 
waiting, might hasten him. In a low voice, with 
an accompaniment as light as a flight of wings, 
she sang Tannhauser' s romance : 

“ Ob., douce etoile, feu du soir, 

Viens nous guider dans le devoir ! ” 

And she repeated these commonplace words 
like a warning and an exhortation, as Prince 
Hermann entered. She ran toward him and 
relieved him of his coat. He tried to embrace 
her, but she took his hands in hers and covered 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 273 

them with kisses. Then she drew him toward 
the corner of the salon , which was lighted by the 
lamp which stood upon a cabinet, made him sit 
upon the sofa, and then seated herself in a low 
chair at his feet. 

“Mon Dieu! ” she said, “ how pale you are. 
Have you been ill ? ” 

“No! How happy I am to be Jiere ; here 
alone I feel at home, here alone I am happy.” 
But he hesitated as he uttered these words, 
and his eyes were very feverish. He tried to 
smile. 

“What have you done, Frida, in all these 
days of waiting for me ? ” 

“ Well, I have waited for you. I assure you 
it was an occupation which filled my days. And 
you ?” 

“I? You know, Frida, what I have done.” 

“ Poor friend ! ” 

“ You did not wish me to do as I did ? ” 

“I have pitied you with all my heart. You 
must have suffered so much.” 

“And it is not ended, Frida. I have com- 
menced — I must go on to the bitter end. I have 
only redoubled their anger against me, and made 
the distress so much more, and it is still grum- 
bling secretly. I can only maintain public order 



274 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

by terror, as though I were a tyrant. And if it 
covers us with glory one day, it will kill us the 
next. It is the first blood which costs the 
most.” 

“Oh, not that! Hermann, not that!” 

Supplicatingly she put both her hands to Her-*’ 
mann’s mouth, as though to stop his wicked 
words. But he continued without noticing her : 

“ And then what ? What must be done next ? 
To fulfill my duty, and to do it without pain, I 
must have as hard a heart as the hardest of my 
ancestors; and I have only a poor heart, so tender 
that the sorrow of others rends it to its depths ; 
and a poor spirit, so uneasy that it is not even 
sure that what I have defended is worth what the 
defense must cost. I am filled with uncertain- 
ties, and my tears flow in secret, and I am in a 
condition which excludes doubt and pity. Ah ! 

I am a very bad protector of order, for I am 
tempted to absolve the unhappy ones of every- 
thing, and to hate everything in those who 
menace them. Among the felicitations which 
I received those days, there were none among 
them which lifted up my heart. I admire 
the men who are capable of judging and con- 
demning other men to death, who do all this 
calmly and who can sleep afterward. The 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 275 

divorce between free thought and enforced action 
is complete within me. And that is lamentable, 
and in a prince is called cowardice. The most 
indulgent would call it weakness. And only 
God knows all I have given up to come to be 
looked upon as the weakest of men.” 

Frida lifted herself up, and kissed Hermann 
on his forehead. He continued : 

“When I saw my father again the other even- 
ing — I do not know if he understands what has 
taken place in these last few days, for he is 
very low and speaks hardly at all — but all he said 
to me were these few words, words which he had 
already spoken to me the day on which he abdi- 
cated in my favor : 6 My son, that God may give 

you faith ! ’ Alas ! I have torn the veil of illu- 
sions which sovereigns have before their eyes. 
What my ancestors have done and for which they 
are glorified has often filled me with doubt and 
terror. The faith in which my father has lived I 
have never had, and that in which I wanted to 
live I fear T no longer have. Perhaps there is 
nothing left for men to do, and that the old adage, 
‘ All is vanity ! ’ has a precise, terrible, desper- 
ate sense — the complete sense which we never 
dare to give to it.” 

“ I love you,” said Frida. 


2 VC PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 

She rose, and did what she had never done be- 
fore, she enveloped Hermann, as a mother does 
a sick child, with her slight arms. 

A squall of wind passed over the grove. They 
heard it growing and spreading from tree to 
tree, in a long sighing and soughing of leaves. 
An owl cried out in the night. The flame of the 
lamp shot up suddenly and then died almost out. 
Hermann and Frida experienced at the same 
moment a feeling of inexpressible distress, in 
which their chimeras vanished and their beau- 
tiful and elevated ideas, in which they thought 
themselves united, seemed to fade away from their 
grasp. They were but two loving human beings, 
who sought each other in the solitude with a 
loving sadness. 

“And I,” said Hermann, “I see but through 
you. These tortures of which I make the pitiful 
confession to you, they come partly from you. 
You alone can soften them. Oh ! have pity upon 
me, for I am more abandoned than the poorest 
beggar on the highways ! Oh ! thy voice — thine 
eyes — thy mouth ! the sweetness of caressing thy 
hair, of feeling thine arms around me, of knowing 
that thou dost belong to me. All to me, can it 
not be \ ” 


“ Hermann ! ” 



PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 211 

He seized her by lier frail wrists ; and, as she 


211 




knelt in front of him, she threw herself back- 
ward to escape from the loving kisses which 
he showered upon her forehead, with its halo of 
reddish gold, on her eyes, the color of the deep 
blue lake in which are mingled soft, pale green 
tints, on her little teeth, which shone between 
her half-opened lips. 

“Do you not see that I need thy kisses and 

% 

that you must free me from my promise ? If any- 
one should see us would they not take us for 
lovers ? Are you not already lost in the eyes of 
the Pharisees for what thou hast done for me ? 
Frida, because of my sadness, do not repulse me 
to-day. v 

She made an effort to recall herself to her sur- 
roundings, and she remembered all at once her 
promise to Andotia. And though Andotia 
seemed very far from her, she told herself she 
must perform her promise ; but she nevertheless 
knew that the means by which she would accom- 
plish it were also those which would deliver to 


her alone and forever the man she adored. And 
thus a little female cunning mingled with the 
sincere resistance of her prudery, and perhaps 
also with her suddenly awakened jealousy of the 
Princess, she could not have said, whether she 





278 


PRINCE HERMANN, RECENT. 


\ 

would put this cunning to the benefit of her love 
— seen in the light of a duty, according to the 
dictations of the old priestess — or not. 

“ Hermann,” she replied, “my whole heart is 
yours, and I am your servant ! but do not ask 
that of me if you love me ! ” 

“ I love you and I want you ! Are you not my 
real wife, the companion of my spirit and my 
heart ? Do you doubt me ? Must I swear to 
thee ? ’ ’ 

“No, Hermann. But how can I say it? It 
seems to me that after that I would find myself 
bound to thee by other than my will, and that 
thus I should be less to thee, because I should be 
thine less freely. And as you have just said, we 
hide like guilty ones ; to come here I deceive my 
great-uncle, who thinks me at a friend’s house, 
whom I also oblige to lie. We are living a lie ; 
is not that enough ? I do not wish you to live 
in treachery also. That would bring us mis- 
fortune.” 

“The one of whom you are thinking, Frida, 
would not suffer any more if you were more to 
me. Has she not a right to think herself already 
betrayed ? Whether it is true or not, for her it 
is an accomplished fact.” 

“ But not for me, Hermann. I know that she 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


279 


hates me, or at least despises me ; but I do not 
want to feel that I have given her the right to do 
so. I can consent to be vile in her thoughts, but 
not in my own. What she believes matters little 
to me, but I hold to not feeling myself lowered 
before her.” 

“ Alas ! Frida, you do not love me.” 

“I love you, Hermann, but I cannot be the 
disgraceful rival of the Princess of Marbourg.” 

“No, you do not love me. And you tell me 
this at a time when I have no one but you, when 
I have separated myself from all the rest, when, 
on your account, I have repudiated all the other 
reasons I have for living ; for, do you not see, I 
am but a poor, unhappy, and bewildered mortal, 
in revolt against himself, his role, and his natural 
destiny. The blood which runs in my veins is 
weary, without doubt, from the extremes of pride 
and action of so many royal generations, and I am 
bearing the brunt of the fatigue of all those 
reigns. I will be always, always unhappy. Ah ! 
how I hate what they call my duty ! How I hate 
my royal functions ! How I hate my whole life, 
all, everything, except thee! ” 

The lamp, for twilight had crept into the room, 
left the greater part of the salon in half shadow ; 
so that if Hermann and Frida had been attentive 


280 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

to anything else but themselves they would have 
seen, behind the windows, bathed in moonlight, a 
shadowy black form, which walked slowly back- 
ward and forward. 

Hermann, overcome, was silent. Frida felt 
that she had led him where she wanted him, and 
turned to him lovingly, saying : 

“ You are sure of what you have just said? 
You are not mistaken? You are not deceiving 
yourself ? 

“ God be praised ! ” she cried. “ If you suffer 
so much the remedy is near at hand. Leave all 
this; free yourself ; be but a man, and you will 
be more than a prince ! Then, and only then, 
will you cease to suffer. And what a lesson you 
will teach and an example you will set ! A prince 
who flies because he recognizes the impossibility 
of reigning without doing evil ! By doing this you 
will serve the holy cause better than by all that 
you could attempt to do by remaining in power. 
For a prince, no matter what he does, is but a 
sentinel of injustice ! And you will be happy, 
being no longer responsible for the abominations 
of the old world. Just think of it ! Is it not 
frightful that, the earth being given to us, the 
men spread over its surface cannot, at the end 
of ten thousand years, live from it, and that there 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 281 

should be such frightfully unequal divisions 
among its inhabitants ? What do you fear ? The 
ancient order hinders fewer violences than it con- 
secrates iniquities ; it is, then, but a long and 
frightful error ; and, as everybody clings to it, to 
better it is impossible ; it must be entirely reno- 
vated, and that can only be by renunciations 
such as ours, or by the inevitable violences of the 
disinherited masses. You think, perhaps, that 
the new order of things will not be much better ? 
What do you know about it ? And when even 
the adage, ‘ Each one in his turn,’ shall be but a 
rude formula of justice. But I — I am confident 
the future world will be better, because it 
will be different : I cannot explain how to 

you, but I have friends who know. Come ; 
we will do the right thing ; we will live near 
nature, not far from the humble, among those 
who are the truly great. As for me, until the 
day on which I met thee, I was never better nor 
happier than when I lived by my own toil and 
mingled with the people. Come, come, and you 
will at last know the joy of a free soul, and 
from that be fraternal with the whole world. 
And if I could not belong to the Prince of Mar- 
bourg, ah ! then what will I be to thee, my 
Hermann ! Tell me, dost thou wish it?” 


282 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

It was thus that her ideal soul of former days 
spoke through Frida’s ardent lips. She thought 
she had conciliated her faith and her love ; but 
her young, hot blood murmured within her: “I 
love thee only, and I would still love thee with- 
out any conditions if thou didst will it, for be- 
hold, I am vanquished. I love thee even though 
thou art a prince ; and even though thou sliouldst 
be the proudest of tyrants I shall love thee 
always, and I could not do otherwise.” 

She dared not give utterance to her thoughts 
aloud ; she would have seemed to herself a blas- 
phemer ; and perhaps also she did not confess 
to herself that this blasphemy was in her heart. 
Only she came of her own accord and knelt at 
Hermann’s feet, and throwing her arms around 
her friend’s neck she silently drew his lips to 
lier’s. 

At that moment a woman dressed in black 
entered by the French window leading to the 
terrace. 

The revolver shone faintly in the semi-obscurity 
of the salon , on the table on which Andotia had 
placed it. 

And at the same hour, curious to experience 
new sensations, Prince Otto was stealthily glid- 
ing to a rendezvous, where he was awaited by • 
the granddaughter of the old guard. 





I 






The following appeared in all the journals of 
Marbourg on the next day : 


“A frightful misfortune, a double grief, has 
just overwhelmed the royal family and the king- 
dom of Alfaine. 

“ Yesterday, Saturday, about six o’clock in 
the morning, a market gardener of Steinbacli 
found in a ditch on the road which runs along 
the walls of the park of Orsova the corpse of a 
man, still young, very tall, and clothed in hunt- 
ing dress. He immediately notified the Mayor of 
Steinbach, who in turn telegraphed to Lowen- 
brun. The Commissary of Police, on reaching 
the spot, discovered that the victim was no other 
than his Royal Highness, Prince Otto. The 
Prince had been struck by a ball, which had pen- 
etrated under the left lung. Death must have 
been instantaneous. 

“ Marks of footprints and trampled grass lead 
to the park gate. Other traces lead across the 

283 



\ 


284 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

garden to the vicinity of the stables. This was 
evidently where the murder had been com- 
mitted. 

‘ ‘ Gunther, the gamekeeper, an old soldier 
nearly seventy -five years of age, and his grand- 
child Kate, a girl of twenty, were first ques- 
tioned. But they declared that they had 
neither seen nor heard anything. 

“The gendarmes and the Commissary next 
entered the villa, in order to question the chate- 
laine, a certain Countess Leilof, who had inhab- 
ited Oi’sova for about three months only, and 
who lived in great retirement. The house was 
deserted. But in an angle of the grand salon , 
stretched in front of a lounge, lay the corpse of 
his Royal Highness, Prince Hermann. He had 
been shot through the heart. 

“ The Countess Leilof had disappeared. 

‘ ‘ Interrogated anew, the keeper and his grand- 
child repeated that they knew nothing ; that 
they had retired the night before to the pavilion 
in which they slept, and which is a hundred 
yards from the chateau and fifty from the sta- 
bles ; they had not left their beds, and no noise 
of any kind had warned them of what was pass- 
ing. Nevertheless both have been placed under 
arrest. 


PRINCE HERMANN \ RECENT. 285 

“The chief of the royal police has gone to 
Orsova to make a minute research. 

“ The most profound mystery envelops this 
frightful event. Certain indications, however, 
lead us to hope that the guilty one or ones will 
not long escape from the investigations already 
set on foot. But it can easily be understood 
that we are bound to the greatest discretion. 

“No one has dared announce the sad news to 
his Majesty the King, whom a cruel malady, 
joined to his great age, confines, as is well known, 
in his palace at Lowenbrun, where his unfortu- 
nate sons had but lately joined him.” 


• /■ 


XXIX. 

Several days after liis arrival at Lowenbriin, 
a second attack of paralysis had completed the 
physical overthrow of the old King ; and since 
then, his tongue tied, his limbs knotted, his 
thoughts wandering or sleeping, he was like a 
man buried in the midst of the living. He had 
been told of the changes and alterations, the 
events transpiring at Marbourg, the workings of 
the Consultative Assembly, the manifestation of 
the 1st of October and what had followed. But 
* he seemed not to understand what they said to 
him. Only from time to time he asked for 
information on the health of little Wilhelm. 

His only pleasure was to eat like a greedy 
child, and, when the weather was fine, to be rolled 
in his wheeling-cliair under the trees of the 
grand avenue. For hours be would gaze at the 
decorations, at the long colonnades in front of 
the palace, the majesty of the valleys, and path- 
ways designed for royal corteges , tbe geometrical 
j)ompousness of the winding balustrades and 

the stairs which united the overhanging terraces, 

286 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 287 

the immense circle of marble statues, gilded by 
the sunshine or streaked with dust or rain, the 
wide 'openings of the grand avenues, diverging 
like the points of a star ; and in the center of all 
this grandeur stood the colossal equestrian statue 
of Hermann II., that terrible ancestor. The old 
King gazed on this as though he had never seen 
it before, doubtless to carry with him in death 
the remembrance of the former pomp of his 
race ; and sometimes a wail, as shrill as the cry 
of a little child, interrupted his vague ecstasy. 

He very rarely asked to see the two Princes, 
his sons. Princess Wilhelmine, whose soul he 
felt to be more in conformity with his own, was 
the only person whom he seemed to care to see. 

That day he was in his room, his limbs wrapped 
in coverlets and his eyes gazing out of the win- 
dow. The rain ran in streams off Hermann II.’s 
bronze shoulders and the dreary and pompous 
assembly of marble statues. When Wilhelmine 
approached him he found her so pale, so dis- 
tracted looking, that he shook off his stupor, and 
an uneasiness overspread his leaden features. 

She understood him. 

“ Your grandson is well,” she said. “ It is not 
about him that I am grieved, bixt about your two 
sons.” 


288 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

She hesitated as though searching for words. 

“It cannot be kept from you — what has hap- 
pened. God has afflicted you, my father ” 

Teal's overcame her. The old man, whose 
face was contracted by the great effort he 
made, and whose tongue was still thick, 
questioned her. 

‘ ‘ Hermann ? ’ ’ 

Willielmine tried to speak, but could not. She 
flung herself, sobbing passionately, at the old 
King’s feet. 

The sick man’s face cleared little by little, his 
knotted fingers moved slowly on the arms of his 
chair ; a secret travail was taking place in his 
paralyzed limbs. Apparently, under the heavy 
shock of a tragic idea, his intelligence had been 
set in motion ; at the first blow he had conceived, 
as present and real, all the possible misfortune, 
and having conceived it, the emotion which he 
had experienced had communicated a saving 
shudder to his half-dead body, in such a way 
that the horror of the things he had imagined he 
had seen, sent through him a feeling of involun- 
tary joy which was more like unto that of a 
recovered life. 

His excess of emotion had loosened his tongue 
a little, and he could articulate : 


PRINCE HERMANN , RECENT. 280 

“You would say — it is the worst misfortune 
which I must expect?” 

Wilhelmine did not reply. 

Then the old man spoke the following words 
distinctly : 

‘ ‘ In the present condition of the kingdom the 
death of my two sons would not be the worst 
misfortune.” 






XXX 


After the next day Christian XYI., in his 
invalid chair, presided over the Council of Minis- 
ters. His condition was ameliorated ; he could 
move his fingers and forearm, and though his 
voice was still feeble and his tongue thick,, he 
could speak plainly enough to be heard and 
understood. Moreover, his strong will, awakened 
by the necessity of a pressing duty, sustained his 
half- dead body. 

“God has tried me, gentlemen, in all ways. 
In the retreat in which I calmly awaited the 
supreme repose he has stricken me with the 
heaviest blows which can be given a father 
and a king ; and it could almost be said that 
he has deferred my death and given me back 
a shadow of life in order that I may better 
feel the weight of his hand. But let us do 
our duty ! ” 

He congratulated General de Kersten upon his 
energy, suspended twelve newspapers, ordered a 
general search among the chiefs of the different 
revolutionary parties, imprisoned some, a: 



390 



PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 291 

signed until further orders the troops into garri- 
son at Marbourg. 

Then he declared that the new Chamber should 
be elected, and called together with the least 
possible delay. “ Vu le malheur des temps” he 
conceded to the “ new ideas” this considerable 
sacrifice, that he judged it not inappropriate to 
use his sovereign authority to undo what had 
been done by his oldest son. He charged Count 
de Moellnitz to form a new ministry. As soon as 
this ministry should be constituted, the King 
would abdicate in favor of Ills grandson. 

In the meantime the search into the mystery 
of the Orsova affair was being pursued in the 
midst of great difficulties. This mystery in- 
flamed the public. The King had at first 
counted upon the death of the two Princes — as 
one was despised and the other had become 
unpopular — as being productive of a great move- 
ment of pity and indignation, which would 
benefit the royal cause and the conservative 
interests. In reality the first emotion calmed 
down, and the people experienced, above all else, 
a feeling of idle curiosity, and saw nothing in 
this double regicide but an exceptional f ait- 
diver s ; but the effect of this curiosity was pre- 
cisely that which the King had expected from 


292 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

another feeling. Alfaine forgot for a fortnight 
all political and social questions ; all they cared 
for was to unravel the Orsova mystery and to let 
their government alone for a while. 

Whether it was from habit or conviction, the 
King had entertained the hypothesis of a socialis- 
tic guet-apens , and the inquiry was directed 
after this preconceived idea. The facts at first 
seemed to adjust themselves to this idea. But 
they could not be revealed to the public without 
making it cognizant, at the same time, with cer- 
tain secret particulars in the lives of the two 
Princes, nor could he denounce the enemies of 
the state without letting it divine the private 
weakness of their victims. And he consented, 
without hesitation, that the veils might be partly 
lifted, persuaded that a superior interest com- 
manded him to brave, in this circumstance, the 
injurious indiscretion of public comments. 

The Marbourg journals published successively 
the following items : 

“The investigation of affairs at Orsova has 
made great progress. We have already said that 
the chateau was occupied by a certain Countess 
Leilof, who has disappeared since the murder. 
It has now been established without a shadow of 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 293 

doubt that the Countess Leilof was no other 
than Mile. Frida de Thalberg, lady in honor 
to her Royal Highness, Princess Wilhelmine. 
Prince Hermann had shown toward Mile, de 
Thalberg a particular friendship, a friendship 
easy to understand when you remember that this 
young girl w r as the grand-niece of the Marquis 
du Stahl, the Prince’s former tutor. Becoming 
embroiled with her great-uncle she had taken 
refuge in Paris with her mother. Prince Her- 
mann had met her there, had reconciled her to 
her uncle, and introduced her himself at Court. 
He felt for her the affection which one often has 
for a person to whom you have rendered a great 
service. He was ignorant of the fact, or had for- 
gotten it, that Mile, de Thalberg was the grand- 
daughter of Kariskine, the conspirator, and that 
she was connected in Paris with the too famous 
Andotia Latanief, and that she had remained 
imbued, even in her new position, with the most 
subversive ideas. 

“Mile. de Thalberg, whose health was deli- 
cate, had been installed about four months pre- 
viously, by the desire of her great-uncle, in the 
Chateau of Orsova, which stands in the midst 
of the Steinbach forest, in order to obtain the 
benefit of the ‘air cure.’ Why, then, had she 





\ - 






294 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT . 


taken the name of the Countess Leilof? This 
fact can only be explained by the love of mystery 
which is to be found among conspirators. It ap- 
pears to be a known fact that before that fatal 
night Prince Hermann, with the exquisite kind- 
ness of his nature, known to all those who loved 
him, had come once or twice to inquire for the 
health of the young invalid. 

“ His Royal Highness had placed his affections 
very injudiciously. It is now evident that Frida, 
who had kept up her relations with the most ad- 
vanced socialistic party, had cowardly betrayed 
her royal protector, and had drawn him under 
some pretext to the Chateau of Orsova, to deliver 
him over to his assassins. Among Mile, de Tlinl- 
berg's papers has been found a letter from 
Andotia Latanief, announcing a visit for the very 
day on which the two crimes were committed. 

“ Frida de Thalberg and Andotia Latanief are 
being actively searched for.” 

“The evidence against Andotia Latanief is 
accumulating. The revolver found under one of 
the pieces of furniture in the salon has been 
recognized by M. Schneider, armorer, Rue de la 
Loi, as having been sold by him, about a fort- 
night ago, to a woman answering the description 


PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 205 

given of Andotia Latanief. A woman correspond- 
ing to the same description was seen the day of 
the crime, about three o’clock in the afternoon, 
in an isolated inn, situated on the forest road 
between Kirchdorf and Steinbacli.” 

“ Andotia Latanief was arrested yesterday 
evening in a furnished apartment which she 
occupied at Marbourg, in the Rue des Saulois, 
and to which she had the strange imprudence 
to return. She offered no resistance to the 
police, merely saying : ‘ I was waiting for you ; 
it is well.’ Questioned by the Judge, she only 
showed the most odious cynicism. She acknowl- 
edged that she had gone to visit Mile, de Thal- 
berg on the day the crime was committed, and 
that the revolver found in the salon was hers. 
She added that she approved of the assassination 
of Prince Hermann, but she denied that she was 
the perpetrator. Toward the end of the interro- 
gation she begged them to give her some news 
of her young friend, and when they made her no 
reply she burst into tears. 

“ So far no traces have been discovered of Frida 
de Thalberg.” 

“It seems evident, notwithstanding Andotia’ s 
denials, so little compatible with her partial 


\ 


296 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

acknowledgments, that she is really the one who 
murdered Prince Hermann. Had she any other 
accomplices besides Frida? This will soon be 
known, for the heads of the revolutionary party 
who are known to have been specially linked with 
Andotia have been put under arrest. 

“As to Prince Otto, it is more than probable 
that his murderer is none other than the game- 
keeper Gunther. This old soldier’s antecedents 
are irreproachable, but he was devoted body and 
soul to Mile, de Thalberg, and it is not improb- 
able that he might on this occasion have carried 
his obedience to crime. Besides, he no doubt was 
ignorant of the name of the victim who had been 
pointed out to him. 

“The ball which struck Prince Otto is exactly 
of the same caliber as the gun which the old 
gamekeeper uses daily. It is true that no blood 
stains were found on Gunther’s clothes, though 
the fact is established that he must have dragged 
his victim fully a hundred yards from the spot 
where he was struck. The Prince’s wound had 
bled very little, and besides, Gunther had had all 
the night to do away with the clothes which he 
had worn at the time the crime was committed. 

“According to the doctors’ opinions, Prince 
Otto’s death must have occurred after that of his 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 


29 1 


brother. It is supposed that Prince Otto had 
succeeded in escaping from the cursed house, and 
that Gunther, who was standing sentinel outside, 
had hit him as he was fleeing across the garden. 

“But by what means could Prince Otto have 
been attracted to this isolated house at that late 
hour? It must not be forgotten that the Prince, 
who was simplicity itself, following the example 
of his ancestor Christian XII., the Well Beloved, 
liked to mingle secretly with the populace, and 
thus become better acquainted with their life and 
needs. It has been discovered that the day before 
that on which he paid the forfeit of his life, he 
had assisted, incognito, at the public rejoicing of 
the Steinbach feast, and that he had there made 
the acquaintance of the gamekeeper’s grand- 
daughter. Let it be understood that this young 
girl’s manners are notoriously bad. What trap 
had been set by this girl for the well-known bon- 
homie of the Prince is something which, so far, 
cannot be explained. 

“ Up to the present moment Gunther and Kate 
are in jail and will not speak. It is hoped that 
solitude will open their lips. 

“As to Frida de Thalberg, there are serious 
reasons to think that she has taken refuge in 
London or Paris.” 



298 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

Such was the official interpretation of the 
“ Mystery of Orsova.” It only half satisfied the 
old King. This invention of a socialistic guet- 
apens helped the examination but little, and 
lent itself to too many objections when it w T as 
necessary to define it precisely. Might not the 
melodramatic coincidence of the two murders 
be, after all, but the effect of chance ? Each mur- 
der must then be explained separately. Christian 
had been tempted to believe that Andotia had 
spoken the truth when she denied having assas- 
sinated Prince Hermann. What good would her 
obstinate denials do her when they would not 
save her head, since she had acknowledged her- 
self accomplice to the fact and desire, and that 
was sufficient to condemn her to death? On 
the other side, the correspondence between Frida 
and Hermann, which the King had in his pos- 
session, did away with the idea that Mile, de 
Thalberg had killed her platonic lover in a 
burst of revolutionary fanaticism. But notwith- 
standing this she was to all appearances the 
assassin. Would it be necessary to look in 
Frida for some sudden paroxysm of murderous 
jealousy? Or else had Hermann, wearied of the 
spirituality of this liaison , tried to do violence 
to his friend, and this strange girl, had she 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 299 

guarded her honor, by a shot from a revolver, 
against the man whom she adored ? 

Otto’s murder could be more easily explained. 
The King was well acquainted with the secret 
failings of his younger son and his taste for low 
adventures, A ball sped by a lover, some farm 
or stable hand, might easily have stricken him 
down as he came out from some stealthy rendez- 
vous with the gamekeeper’s grandchild. Thus 
there could be no connection between the two 
assassinations, except the extraordinary coinci- 
dence of time and place. But if this meeting 
was not the effect of human machination, the 
pious sovereign was ready to recognize the inter- 
vention of a divine will, whose ways he accepted. 
It was in order to conform to this will that he 
kept his suppositions to himself, and that he 
imperiously ordered the inquiries to continue in 
the direction in which they had at first been 
started. Assuredly Providence had permitted 
the death of the two Princes in order to furnish 
him with weapons against the enemies of soci- 
ety, and that he might still be able to save what 
had been so gravely compromised by the weak- 
ness and lack of dignity of his sons. 

However, all this time Andotia, in her prison, 
was very unhappy. She was persuaded that it 


300 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

was Frida wlio had killed Prince Hermann, and 
she blessed her and glorified her in her heart. 
But, at the same time, she could not console 
herself for having lost her. She discovered in 
herself a feeling of maternity, of which she 
had never suspected the depth, and for the first 
time she feared she loved a person more than 
humanity. 

During the night which followed her visit to 
Orsova, and during the whole of the next day, 
she had vainly waited for her young friend. The 
news of the double murder had filled her with joy 
at first ; she believed the people to be ready to 
seize this occasion to rise up and to proclaim the 
republic. But she had counted without looking 
to Christian XVI. ’s awakening. Returning to 
Marbourg she had found the party hesitating, in- 
timidated by the vigorous measures which the old 
King had decreed, and the majority of the people 
interested in this celebrated crime as in a news- 
paper romance which had just “commenced,” 
and more curious to follow, day by day, the in- 
vestigations of this shadowy affair than disposed 
to profit by it and secure their liberty. 

Thus the heroic and wild act of her soul’s child, 
and perhaps her death (for she did not doubt 
Frida’s suicide), were to be useless to the holy 



PRINCE HERMANN , REGEN2 


301 


cause ! This thought, that Frida was dead through 
her, and dead in vain, tortured her. Her faith 
was not “ overthrown”; if “the time” had not 
come yet it would come ; nothing was more cer- 
tain. But she felt herself struck to the heart, 
and no longer had the courage to act. And this 
was why one evening, not discouraged, but 
awfully tired, she had returned to her home and 
calmly set herself to await the coming of the 


And in her cell she passed her days, knitting 
woolen stockings and skirts for the children of 
the political prisoners. 


police 


i 







XXXI. 


Christian XYI. had an idea. Gunther’s terms 
of service, three campaigns, four wounds, two 
citations in the order of the day, not for brave 
deeds accomplished in the heat of battle, but for 
duties obstinately and doggedly fulfilled, and 
finally the good opinion in which he was held in 
the villages where he had lived since he left the 
army, all convinced the King that Gunther was 
a brave man, very upright, very honest, very 
respectful to the innumerable powers to which a 
poor man owes obedience, and that it would 
only be necessary to question him in a certain 
manner to learn the truth from him. 

The King ordered the Chief of Police to have 
Gunther and Kate brought before him, in order 
to give him an opportunity to question them. 

The functionary objected that it was against 
the usual custom. But the King replied that he 
was the King, and that his rights were limited by 
no written constitution — that Alfaine rejoiced in 
an absolute monarchy. 

One morning, then, Gunther and Kate were 

302 


1 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT 303 

driven to the palace. The gendarmes left them 
at the door of the royal chamber. 

“ Approach, Gunther, and you, mademoiselle; 
be not afraid.” 

They were not afraid. They were only startled, 
and they needed a little time in which to become 
accustomed to the idea that this old man, stricken 
by age, buried in his dressing gown, his feet 
wrapped in a sheepskin, was really the King. 

“I know, Gunther, that you are a man of 
honor, that you have been a soldier for a long 
time, and that you have served your country 
faithfully. Perhaps you have kept something 
back from the Judge. This is why I wished to 
see you. But you must tell everything to me. 
See, I am laying no snare for you. I will ques- 
tion you before your grandchild, and then I will 
in turn question her before you. It would be 
easy for both of you to mislead me if you wished 
to. But I am sure you will tell me the whole 
truth, no matter what it may be. Speak, the 
King is listening to you.” 

Gunther’s lips trembled under his great mus- 
tache. Kate, much struck at first by the pomp 
of the place, almost amused now, was attentively 
examining the furniture and the tapestries, her 
head cast down in a seemingly sullen silence. 


304 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 


“Sire,” said Gunther, “I would be the worst 
of rascals if I did not talk before ' you with the 
same sincerity as at the Last Judgment Day .’ 5 
“They accuse you,” replied the King, “of 
having killed Prince Otto, perhaps without know- 
ing that it was he — and this is a point in your 
favor — they accuse you of having killed him in 
obedience to a command from Frida de Thalberg, 
to whom you were known to be entirely devoted.” 
“Sire,” responded the old soldier, “it is true 
that I was devoted to madame, but not to the 
extent of committing a crime ; and besides, she 
would never have asked me to do anything of 
that kind. This is what happened : During the 
night of Friday or Saturday — it might have been 
about ten o’clock — I heard the noise of footsteps, 
the noise of someone walking with great precau- 
tion. I got out of bed, but before going out the 
idea came into my head to glance into the bed- 
chamber of my grandchild, and — well, I saw 
that my granddaughter was not in her bed.” 

Kate protested strenuously : 

4 ‘ I — I was not in my bed ? ” 

“No.” 

“ I don’t see how anyone can say that.” 

“Keep quiet,” said the grandfather; “I am , 
not lying.” 


305 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

“ And afterward ? ” questioned tlie King. 

“ I went out, taking my gun with me ; I saw a 
man going toward the little gate opening out on 
the public road. I called out ‘ Qui vive ? ’ He 
did not reply, and started to walk more quickly. 
I thought to myself : Either this is a lover, or he is 
a robber, or he is a man who has come to play the 
spy upon my lord, the Prince Royal ; and in any 
of the three cases there is only one thing forme to 
do. I then pulled the trigger. The man fell. He 
lifted himself up and dragged himself toward the 
trees. I followed him and found him dead.” 
“Did you recognize him — recognize him at 
that moment? ” 

“ Sire, I will tell you all. The moon was at its 
full ; I could easily examine the dead man’s face, 
and a suspicion flashed across me that it was 
his Royal Highness, Prince Otto. And it was 
for this reason that I refused to reply to the 
Judge’s questions.” 

“ Through fear? ” 

“No, sire; through respect.” 

“And then?” 

“I no longer knew what I was doing. I only 
had one idea, and that was to carry the body 
away as far as possible. But my strength failed 
me, I left him alongside the wall of the park, just 




306 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

where lie was found the next day. I put the lad- 
der back in its place. I entered the house ; I 
found Kate in her bed. I gave her a beating ; I 
told her what I thought of her for making me 
kill a man. Then I waited for daylight .’ 5 

“ And what did you know about wliat was pass- 
ing in the chateau ?” 

“ Nothing, sire.” 

“ Nothing at all ?” 

“ Nothing at all.” 

“ You heard nothing ? ” 

“ Absolutely nothing, sire. My little cottage 
is more than a hundred yards from the chateau, 
and it is separated from it by a grove of trees.” 
“But the day before did you not remark 
something ? ” 

“Madame was very happy, because she was 
expecting my lord. She passed most of her time 
gathering flowers and decorating the grand 
salon” 

“Did she not receive a visitor ? ” 

“ Yes, sire, an old woman dressed in black.” 
“Andotia Latanief. At what time did she 
come?” 

“ About four o’clock, sire.” 

“ Did you see this woman go out ? ” 

“Yes, sire.” 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT \ 307 

“ Are yon sure she left the park ? ” 

“Yes, sire, for I opened the gate for her 
myself.” 

“ Do you think that Frida de Thalberg was 
capable of killing Prince Hermann ?” 

“ Oh ! sire, she loved him as one loves God ! ” 
“But there are women who kill because they 
love.” 

“ Madame did not love in that way, sire.” 

The King turned toward Kate : 

. “ And you, mademoiselle, what have you 
to say ? 5 ’ 

“ Nothing, sire.” 

“ Miserable little one!” grumbled Gunther, 
“ will you speak when the King questions you ? ” 
“Do not scold her, Gunther. Answer me, 
mademoiselle. Where did you meet Prince 
Otto?” 

Gunther intervened : 

“At the Steinbacli fete , sire. 

“ Let her speak, Gunther.’ 

Kate finally decided she would talk. 

“ Well, yes, it was there ! Was it my fault ? 
Did I know that he was a prince ? ” 

“ And when did you see him again ? ” 

“ The next day, as I was returning from Stein- 
bach, he followed me, and came into the chateau 


308 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

behind me. There was nobody in the house at that 
moment. He promised to give me some presents, 
and asked me to meet him in the fir grove, near the 
little gate leading to the highway. That is all.” 
“ But how could he get in? ” 

“ I forgot the key, and left it in the lock of 
the little door at the end of the park. He car- 
ried it away with him.” 

“ And you saw no one in the garden nor 
about the chateau when you set out to go to 
this rendezvous ? ” 

“ I did not go, sire.” 

“ You did not go ? ” 

“ No, sire.” 

The King said to her : 

“Take care. If you hide anything you will 
be thought more guilty than you really are. 
And then everything will be discovered. And 
besides, my child, it is the King who is question- 
ing you, and the King is not your enemy. You 
have nothing to add to your former statement ? ” 
“ No, sire.” 

Christian bethought himself of a stratagem. 
“Your interrogation is finished, and now I 
know what I wanted to know. Mile, de Thal- 
berg was arrested yesterday. Your answers 
condemn her to death, for it but confirms the 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 309 

suspicions that slie was the one who killed Prince 
Hermann. ” 

The vision of Frida hanging, her tongue pro- 
jecting from her mouth, as you see in the pic- 
tures of executions, and at the same moment the 
remembrance of her grace, her goodness, and the 
candor with which she had defended Kate, and 
her kind words when she had said: “Kate is 
good ; you must not think ill of her, Gunther ; 
you are too hard upon her,” softened the girl’s 
heart, and this cry escaped her lips : 

“ That is not true, sire ! ” 

“How do you know that?” demanded the King. 

“By my faith, so much the worse for me; 
but I am going to tell everything — everything ! 
from the commencement.” 

She recalled the questions which Otto had put 
to her, the way in which he had inspected the 
salon , and how, all at once, she received the im- 
pression that this curiosity was that of an enemy, 
and that there was a mysterious connection 
between Otto’s visit and Hermann’s death. 

“ When Prince Otto had come,” she said, “he 
remained in the salon while I put the dining 
room in order ; and then he had examined every- 
thing ; then he had asked me madame’s name 
and what she looked like. I told him ; I did 


310 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

not think I was doing wrong. And then he 
asked me if she was expecting the Count. Did 
I yet know he was a prince ? However, I began 
to be suspicious of him, and I told him that that 
was none of his business. But as there were 
flowers everywhere, he said to me : ‘ These flow- 
ers are in expectation of someone ; that is as 
clear as day.’ Then he went away imme- 
diately.” 

The King was thinking ; his head fell lower ; 
he was frightened at the things which presented 
themselves to him. And his poor knotted hands 
trembled more violently as they lay clasped on 
his knees. 

“ Is that all, my child % ” 

• - 

“No,” said the girl. “There are still other 
things to tell. Just as I left to go to the rendez- 
vous ” 

“You did go, then ? ” 

“Yes, sire.” 

“ And you met Prince Otto there ? ” 

“Yes, sire.” 

“ Did you speak to him again on the subject of 
Countess Leilof?” 

“No, sire.” 

“Was he gay ? ’ ’ 

“Very gay, sire.” 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT, 


311 


“Continue, my poor child.” 

“ Wlien I went out,” said the girl, “I saw on 
the terrace, in front of the chateau, a woman all 
in black.” 

“ Why did you not say that before, Kate ? ” 

“ Because I had commenced by saying that I 
had not left my bed, and this b would not have 
agreed with my first statement.” 

“This woman, whom you saw, are you sure it 
was not Frida de Thalberg ? ” 

“ I am sure of that.” 

“It was, then, the old woman whom Mile, de 
Thalberg had received that day ? 5 ’ 

“No, sire. This one was taller. She was not 

old. And then ” 

“ And then ? ” 

“For one moment she turned and the moon 

shone full upon her ” 

“ Would you recognize her again ? ” 

“ She was so far away, I do not know. How- 
ever ” 

The Chamberlain announced Princess Wilhel- 
mine at that moment. It was the usual hour for 
her to come and inquire for the King’s health 
every morning. 

Kate, seeing her enter, received a shock. 
She was about to cry out: “It is she!” when 



\ 


312 PRINCE HERMANN \ RECENT . 

Gunther seized her by the wrist and commanded 
her : 

“ Be quiet ! ” 

But the King had understood, and while Kate 
gazed at the Princess with terror-stricken eyes, 
he said, turning to Gunther : 

“I am going to have you set at liberty — 
you and your granddaughter. You will set out 
to-morrow for our Chateau of Eberlach, which is 
a hundred leagues from here, and you will be 
appointed head gamekeeper. You will forget 
all that you have told me, and you must answer 
for your granddaughter’s silence.” 

Then turning to Kate, he said : 

“ Go, my child, and try to be good.” 

They led the prisoners away. The King gazed 
long and earnestly at his daughter-in-law. She 
sustained the look, but her imperious lip, that lip 
so like Marie Antoinette’s, trembled a little. 

At that moment, the ministers arrived to attend 
the Council of State. Calmly the King said to 
them, pointing to Wilhelmine : 

“ Messieurs, the Regent ! ” 


- 




XXXII. 

He presided at the Council with great dignity, 
and developed the plan of a strong organization 
of official candidates for the coming elections. 

After which, he caused the Princess to be sum- 
moned to his room. 

“ Madame, have you nothing to say to me ? ” 
“But, you yourself, sire?” stammered Wil- 
helmine. “ Those people whom you had here 
and who were, so I am told, the gamekeeper, 
Gunther, and his grandchild, have you learned 
anything new from them ? ’ ’ 

“I am the one to question you. Have you 
nothing to say to me, Madame ? ” 

“II” 

He replied with increasing energy : 

“ Madame, I am your father and your King. 
I am waiting for you to confess to me.” 
Conquered, she replied in a low voice : 

“ Well, yes! I killed him!” 

“ Oh ! unhappy woman ! Unhappy woman ? ” 

4 ‘Yes, unhappy woman, because I loved him 
and would have given my life’s blood for him. 


314 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

9 

This is how it happened. An unknown man, 
an emissary of Otto’s, doubtless — gave me an 
anonymous letter, which told me of the rendez- 
vous of Hermann and Mile, de Thalberg, and 
pointed out to me the means by which I could 
reach them. I told Sanchuitz, an old servant 
whom I could trust, to wait for me, outside the 
garden walls, at about eight o’clock in the even- 
ing with two saddled horses. At the corner of 
the d’Orsova Park, I alighted. I followed the 
wall for some length, until I came to a little gate 
which was only latched. I went straight to the 
villa. The night was warm and the French window 
was half opened. I saw them talking together, 
and as the salon was bright, they could not see 
me. I saw and heard them. I heard what she 
said to Hermann and what he said in reply. I 
swear to you, on my eternal welfare, what she was 
taking from me was not only my husband’s 
heart, but his honor, his crown, and that of his 
son ! I entered — a weapon was lying there. I 
intended to shoot down a state criminal, to 
deliver Hermann from his evil genius. I cried 
out — I remember my words : ‘ Oh, miserable, 

miserable girl ! ’ I drew the trigger, but my 
hand was not steady — the revolver did not go off 
immediately. Hermann, no doubt, had time to 


PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 315 

put this creature out of danger, or to throw him- 
self in front of her, I know not which — but it was 
Hermann who fell — after that, I left. I aban- 
doned in that house — I left to the passionate 
caresses of this girl — the corpse of the Heir 
Apparent. It was necessary to do this, in order 
to save the house of Marbourg from scandal. I 
rejoined Sanchuitz at the corner of the park and 
I came back to Lowenbrun about ten o’clock at 
night. I had arranged it that no one would 
know of my absence, and that my ladies in wait- 
ing would think me alone in my room. And 
now, sire, judge me.” 

She knelt before him, the King signed her to 
rise : 

“I believe you and I absolve you, Madame. 
God’s hand is in all this. You are not guilty, but 
I am the most miserable of men. Alas ! at a time 
when the majority of sovereigns showed them- 
selves so weak hearted, I can say, I have done 
all my duty as a king. I crushed my natural 
affections and subdued my egotistical passions. 
I married, when still young, a wife whom I did 
not love, consulting in my choice but the interest 
of the kingdom, and I was faithful to the Queen, 
whose soul is with her God. During fifty years 
I have worked ten hours every day, while I had 



316 PRINCE HERMANN REGENT. 

tlie strength ; not for one moment did I dispense 
with my hard royal parade. And I have had the 
sorrow put upon me of seeing the people lose 
affection for their king and of feeling that noth- 
ing of my sentiments nor my beliefs had passed 
to my children. And now, God has permitted it 
to come to pass, that one of them has committed 
Cain’s crime, and that both should perish in the 
one day, because one lacked virtue and the other 
faith. And thus, I fear that my death, which is 
not far distant, will not only see the end of a 
good old King, but the end of a race and perhaps 
the end even of royalty. But at all times, let us 
lift up our hearts. Despair is a crime. The faith 
and the virtue which was wanting in my sons, 
I find in you, my daughter ; and my grandson is 
in good hands, and the old throne may yet see 
new life ! God himself has shown us that he has 
not abandoned us ; for though laying his hand 
heavily upon us, he has delivered our enemies 
to us and armed us against them. Reassure 
yourself, Madame, you have nothing to fear, 

i 

Andotia Latanief shall be condemned and 
hanged.” 

The Princess started in horror. 

“And what, sire ! Condemn her, now that you 
know she is innocent?” 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 317 

“ Andotia is not innocent.” 

“She is of the death of the Prince. Since her 
arrest the thought has tortured me, that another 
might perhaps be condemned for a crime which 
is mine ; and if you had not forced me a little 
while ago to confess the truth to you, I hope that 
God would have given me the courage to denounce 
myself before Andotia’ s condemnation.” 

“ This woman,” said the King, “has merited 
death a thousand times before, and, besides, if 
she is not hanged as a murderess, she will be, 
on her own confession, as counselor and insti- 
gator to murder ; we, therefore, do her no 
wrong. But it matters not that she be con- 
demned as regicide in fact. State reasons render 
it necessary.” 

“ State reasons ? But that is horrible ! for even 
if Andotia was judged but by her admissions and 
the charges brought against her, are you sure 
that the court would pronounce capital punish- 
ment upon her? She deserves death ; well, so be 
it, but you cannot send her to it except by a public 
lie. The morality of kings, is it not the same as 
that of other, men ? 

“No, Madame, and it was just because of that 
that I was enabled to absolve you. But do not 
give yourself any worry ; I will take all this upon 






318 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

myself, and I will answer to God, who will soon 
judge me.” 

“But, if the sentence must be pronounced, 
could you not at least reconcile justice and 
the interest of the kingdom in commuting Ando- 
tia’s sentence, and perhaps — at the end of a cer- 
tain time, allow her to escape it entirely ?” 

“No, Madame, what I have said will be.” 

“ Sire, spare me this remorse, I beg of you, and 
do not deliver me to this specter ! It is a terrible 
one, I swear to you.” 

The old man’s voice trembled with anger. 
“Madame, you forget that I am also your 
judge. I pray you allow me to do in this matter 
as I please. It is only on this condition that 
I will pardon you for my son’s death.” 

And he dismissed her with a sign. 


XXXIII. 


Hellborist, however, could not console himself. 
He had, in the first place, counted on the com- 
fortable role of a minister who would play the 
part of a reformer, as the right hand man of a 
young prince of moderately liberal principles, 
and he found he had fallen upon a dreamer, who 
disconcerted him by his good faith and ingenious 
logic. Thrown over by the people, who accused 
him of hypocritically miscarrying the projected 
reforms, in league with the Conservative party, 
but an accomplice suspected by them, the former 
lawyer thought that his resignation would be 
looked upon as a public disapproval of Prince 
Hermann, and would win for him the confidence 
of the reaction. The Prince’s death, and the 
coming upon the scene again of King Christian 
XVI., had been a great blow to his hopes. It 
was clear to his mind that Count Moellnitz’s first 
care would be to dispense with his services as 
minister. Latterly the beautiful Countess, with 
that facility which certain women have for for- 
getting the favors they have granted, had treated 



320 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

him with great indifference, almost with con- 
tempt. 

It was, then, only by means of great insistence, 
and by invoking the aid of a considerable and 
mysterious motive, that he was enabled to obtain 
from the Countess a special interview, almost a 
month after the crime at Orsova. 

He found her, clothed in a robe of pale green 
crepe, embroidered in black owls, and she was 
reading, or appeared to be reading, “ Endymion,” 
by Lord Beaconsiield, while daintily puffing 
away at an opium cigarette. Hellborn kissed 
her hand with a slowness which he tried to 
render significant. She allowed him to do it, 
perfectly unmoved. 

Then he abruptly entered upon the business 
which brought him to her : 

“I suppose your husband has no intention of 
keeping me in his portfolio ?” 

“ I do not think so,” she said. 

“I wish to tell you that I will take my conge 
very quietly, for the circumstances are not very 
enticing — but in the first place I have a commu- 
nication to make to you.” 

“Let us hear it.” 

“ His Royal Highness Prince Renaud is dead.” 
“ He, also ?” 



PRINCE HERMANN \ RECENT. 321 

“ Yes, there have been a great many deaths in 
that family.” 

He took out of his pocket an envelope covered 
with a number of stamps and bulging out with 
papers. 

“ This envelope, addressed to Prince Hermann, 
reached me this morning. I took it upon myself 
to open it, having been charged, since my resig- 
nation, with the duty of expediting current 
affairs. These papers establish the fact that 
Prince Renaud, under the name of Jean Werner, 
has died at Aden of yellow fever. I have said 
nothing about it as yet to the King. I thought 
there would still be plenty of time to acquaint 
him with this news. 

“ You did well !” 

Hellborn paused, like an actor who wished to 
spring a surprise upon his public, and said with 
a theatrical air : 

“So much the better, since Prince Renaud is 
still living.” 

“ How is that ?” 

“There is added to the brief a letter in which 
Prince Renaud explains to his cousin his desire 
to disappear officially, and in which he begs him 
to keep his secret, according to a promise previ- 
ously given. Here is the letter.” 



322 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

“Give it to me.” 

“What for?” 

Hellborn put the letter and the papers back in 
his pocket and buttoned up his frock coat. 

“I have been thinking of one thing,” he said. 
“It is not impossible that when Prince Renaud 
learns of the double death which has twice in one 
day brought him nearer to the throne, he will 
regret his step, and experience a desire to return 
and be alive again. It is not impossible, either, 
that the Princess Wilhelmine will encounter such 
difficulties in her role of Regent that she will, per- 
haps, give it up, and in this case Prince Renaud 
is the one who will succeed her. What am I 
saying? It is not impossible that the little 
Prince, Wilhelm, feeble and sickly as he is — 

i 

yes, everything happens. Besides — I am talking 
seriously — it would be a very bad thing for tbe 
kingdom if Prince Renaud, whose strange 
notions are well known to you, should come into 
power. Happily these papers, which are abso- 
lutely correct, permit us to look upon him as 
dead, no matter what he does. If need be, 
should he take it into his head to come and dis- 
arrange our plans, he could be politely sent 
away as a false usurper of a title. Thus tran- 
quillity would be assured for a long time to the 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 323 

faithful servants of the government, who would 
then also be its masters. One man alone is to 
be feared, and he is the one who holds this 
letter, and who could, in consequence, when it 
pleased him, resurrect Prince Renaud. Have I 
made myself understood?” 

“It is strange! Yery strange!” said the 
Countess. 

“ Is it not ? ” 

The Countess was especially an “enigmatical ” 
woman, because her complexion was pearly, her 
eyes changeable in color, and she dressed like the 
“ demoiselle benie" of* Dante Rosetti, she abused 
anaesthetics, and though born to like Auber,Caba- 
nel and the novels of the Revue des Deux Mondes , 
she affected to be able to enjoy only the art, the 
music, and the literature of the future. But she 
was in reality a little of the animal — simple, a 
little capricious, fairly voluptuous, very greedy, 
very transparent, and she adored herself. 

She turned lazily toward Hellborn, let her eyes, 
misty with thought, rest for a moment upon his 
robust mein and said in a languishing voice : 
“Come and see me again to-morrow, my dear 
minister.” 


XXXIY. 


Renaud’ s letter to Hermann was as follows : 

“X 

“ My dear Cousin : 

‘ ‘ This letter is, as I forewarned you, to announce 
to you the fact that I am no more. I send you 
the death certificate of Jean Werner, who died 
October 8tli, at Aden. This false certificate did 
not cost me very much, for there are always to be 
found obliging men. Added to this is a second 
paper, establishing the fact that Jean Werner is 
no other than Prince Renaud. I beg of you to 
make the news of my death public, as you prom- 
ised me you would. 

U I will not tell, even to you, the new name 
which I have taken. And do not commence to 
raise objections and tell me that I might have dis- 
appeared and gone to live anywhere I pleased, 
and under any name I chose, without making it 
necessary to die officially. I want to make it dif- 
ficult for me to become again Prince Renaud, in 
case I should be tempted to do so some day. 
That day my false civil standing would crush me. 

324 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 325 

Even you, if I presented myself to you under my 
true name, would not be sure it was myself. I 
put you on your guard, from this day forth, 
against anyone who says he is your cousin. 
What difference does it make to you, if it 
amuses me to survive myself ? 

“I have settled a considerable pension on 
Lolia’s parents, on condition that they will live 
three hundred miles from Marbourg. At Malta, 
a Catholic priest married us. My little friend 
was always good and sweet ; but once mar- 
ried she seemed to grow cold, as though she 
regretted I was no longer a prince. 

“ In Chicago, the first thing she asked me to 
do was to take her to the circus. During the 
performance she held my hand in hers, but the 
next day she disappeared, leaving a letter behind 
her, in which she explained truthfully, that she 
could not give up her art, that she had joined the 
circus as an equilibrist, that the feeling was 
stronger than she was ; and that notwithstanding 
her action she loved me dearly, that she hoped 
her departure would not cause me too much sor- 
row, and that she would be faithful to me forever. 
And I feel that she has told me the truth. 

44 1 am through, I hope, with sentimental com- 


326 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

plications. I hope to find a woman who will love 
me for myself and not for my title.” 

“I have discovered at last the only life which 
suits me. In an available part of the State of 
X. I have bought me a property of ten thou- 
sand acres. The site is one of great magnificence. 
Here I will cultivate grain and feed great flocks, 
applying to the culture of my land and the 
raising of my flocks the most recent discoveries 
of science and industry. And here I will be 
truly a prince. 

“ I think of you very often, my dear Hermann. 
I saw by the last dispatches which I received, 
that you had re-established order in Marbourg 
by bringing forth a reign of terror. Thus, bitter 
necessity has reduced you to methods which 
made our ancestors so hateful to you and me. 
You have started out to do your work as 
a king, with the heart and intelligence of a 
free man. This contradiction will be your 
ruin. 

“Injustice is always mistress in old Europe. 
The most foolish objections of men of good sense 
are reasonable in comparison with the socialistic 
Utopia, And let us suppose for a moment that 
after long convulsions, after bloody revolutions 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 3 21 

and the alternatives of republican demagogy and 
military despotism, this Utopia should one day 
be realized in some part, for good as for evil, the 
picture does not entice me ; each individual will 
act according to his way of thinking, but the 
beauty of life will have perished. 

“Two ends. might be assigned to humanity. 
The democratic ideal is to assure to all a lasting 
well being that is no doubt desirable ; but human 
nature being given us, this cannot be done but 
by a public and universal compression, which 
will speak more loudly to elite beings, and to 
which they will succumb. The aristocratic ideal 
would be to obtain the total and harmonious 
development of a small number of superior beings, 
in whom, according to the well-known formula of 
one of your wise men, the universe will become 
more and more conscious of itself; but that can 
only be done by the sacrifice of millions and 
millions of inferior creatures ; this is hard, and 
it allows of too much indifference among the 
privileged class, too much indifference at the 
hands of others, and which, in consequence, 
implies contradiction, for a superior conscience 
is not conceived without an infinite goodness. 

u Some heroic persons assign, it is true, a third 
end to humanity, which will not be the happi- 


\ 


328 PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 

ness of all, nor the superior life of a few. They 
claim that we were not born for pleasure, that 
the solution of all difficulties shall be that every 
one shall prefer others to himself, and to know 
that there is no greater joy than the renounce- 
ment of all joy. This dream is very evidently 
the chimera of all chimeras. 

“But these two dreams must be reconciled. 
This reconciliation is not possible in the Old 
World, notably in that part of it which I know 
best, and that is Europe. There the democratic 
ideal and its opposite are condemned to an eternal 
struggle. All that we can see is that the first is in 
a way to do a great wrong to the second, but with- 
out having a chance to triumph itself. The Old 
World is too small ; the ground is all occupied ; 
there is not enough land furnished, and an enor- 
mous quantity is necessary. Then this Old 
World is too heavily burdened with remem- 
brances ; too much embarrassed by its traditions 
of violence, authority, and useless legislation. 
Europe supports ten million soldiers. The 
amount of labor and intelligence expended for 
the organization and perfecting of standing 
armies is incalculable. With the millions which 
her armies cost Europe, she ought to be able to 


V 


PRINCE HERMANN \ REGENT. 329 

reconstruct all her industrial conditions, and 
redouble her means of communication. But she 
cannot do it. It would be necessary to commence 
by doing away with her state frontiers, and this 
is just what all her past, of which she is the 
slave, forbids her to do. Only in spite of the 
greatest difficulties France might, in one or two 
centuries, thanks to the kindness of her people, 
and through the generosity of her rulers, 
approach to the democratic ideal, but what suf- 
ferings she must undergo first. 

“The most probable thing is that there is not 
very much to be done with that decrepit world. 
In art and in literature it returns by excess of 
science, and at the same time by an exhaustion, 
to the hesitating stage ; and it ends in love and 
in perverse impotence. The distinguished litter- 
ateurs who have undertaken to give it a soul 
have little faith in the signs they make, and 
lead a crusade in which the cross is but a meta- 
morphosis. While they pretend to know the 
Gospel, they do not even practice charity. But 
would they have a perfect charity if it were 
sufficient for them ? The evils of humanity can 
never be cured by virtues which would be pos- 
sessed but by an imperceptible minority. 


330 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 

/ 

“It is toward the New World that the eyes 
of those who believe that the existence of the 
planet Earth is not an accident, robbed of all 
kind of signification, should turn. 

“I have not always loved this America. At 
the time in which I was torpid in the learned 
languor of the civilization of the Old World, and 
its atmosphere full of memories, I deplored 
the discovery of the American continent. I 
remembered that this New World was marked 
in blood by the wickedness and rapacity of 
men, and that she had revenged herself by 
drawing the sources of life from us. Then the 
people who came from here did not please 
me. The Yankee type offended my quietness 
and my natural indolence. Oh, these men, who 
are only in the world for the purpose of con- 
structing railroads and machines for working 
mines, who lose and make their fortunes ten 
times over, who never dream, who are not lazy, 
and who in the midst of this life oblivious to 
the goods of this world, keep in sight the neces- 
sity of putting themselves in good favor with the 
‘Unknown,’ as with a client or a creditor, and 
to be faithful to one of the thirty-six thousand 
churches which a liberal examination has drawn 
from the Bible. Oh, the marvelous amalgama- 



V 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 331 

tion of religious sentiment with the most egotisti- 
cal instinct of practical life ! Oh, the enormous 
and exhilarating hypocrisy ! I was shocked to 
find in the character of this race this searching 
after material benefits with a fury as far as pos- 
sible removed from the spirit of the Gospel, and 
to hold absolutely to having God for themselves, 
in a word, evidently suspicious of God, and to 
communicate with him from the depths of their 
counting-houses. 

“ I have gotten over this unreasonable severity. 
These men are yet in the first period of their 
legitimate human development, and already they 
have inaugurated the complete life. They are 
greedy, but not timid or parsimonious ; their 
ideality is as sincere and natural as their rapacity. 
Their religious instinct is freely exercised ; they 
make or choose their own religion. Their com- 
merce, that is the word, with the Eternal, recalls 
the relations which the ancients held with their 
divinities. And, likewise, their activity, their 
audacity, their imitative energy, above those of 
primitive man and of those who invented every- 
thing, steel, iron, fire, the virtues of plants, the 
wheel, the chariot, the boat, and the sail, and 
who will disown us for their parents, we, the 
dullards of the Old Continent. Briefly, it is like 


332 PRINCE HERMANN , REGENT. 

a humanity which is recommencing ten thousand 
years— or twenty thousand — after the appear- 
ance of our race on the planet. 

“ This humanity has a chance to succeed when 
we have failed. Only here the dream of equality 
for all, and a complete life for a few, are simulta- 
neously realizable. America (I speak of the 
United States in particular) is free of the burdens 
of all kinds which our long history has made 
heavy for us. The wasting of strength is less 
here than anywhere else. No army, hardly any 
taxes, the governmental machine is reduced to 
a minimum. Pauperism is only known in the 
large cities, where the immigrants are gathered 
together in great numbers. No classes, no castes. 
Social relations are but the natural results of 
interests or sympathies between individuals ; 
they are not regulated, as with us, by secular 
prejudices, to whose beginning can be traced 
injustice and violence. Here the human creature 
is intact. 

“ Life is good here, at once comfortable and 
natural, ennobled by the audacity and con- 
tempt felt for death. The soil, almost virginal 
still, is almost illimitable, and the scenery is of 
an inexpressible majesty. We have rivers as 


P1UNCE HERMANN, REGENT. 333 . 

large as lakes ; lakes as large as oceans ; moun- 
tains which have ten times the extent of the 
Alps, and which are like the bristling backbone 
of the earth. And to work this New World 
we have all the elaborate resources of the Old 
World’s civilization. It is the patriarchal life 
succored and ornamented by industrial mechan- 
ism. Picture Adam cast upon a new earth burst- 
ing with fecundity ; not naked, but having at his 
disposition science and Edison’s engines. Abra- 
ham, or, if you rather, Eummus, the shepherd, 
kills his cattle mechanically and sends them to 
Europe preserved in the refrigerator rooms of 
immense steamers. 

“If the social problem, and by that the 
human problem, is to be solved ; if humanity 
has not been born in vain ; if it has a work to do, 
an end to attain, and if this end should be at- 
tained, this is where it will be first realized. This 
continent has been given to men late, so that 
they can profit by what they have done and 
suffered in the other parts of their planet. 

“ I know the advantages of the Old World, the 
treasures of, art and poetry which it possesses, 
and which we have not. Yes, here we are, with- 
out parchments, titles, or monuments. So much 

-a*. 

the better, We have freed ourselves from the 


334 PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT . 

nostalgia for the past, which softens with its 
witchcraft of Regret the feeling with which the 
mind is overcome ; at Brussels, at Munich, at 
Rome, at Florence, at Granada, at Paris even, in 
all the places where the traces pointing out the 
passage of the dead are particularly accumulated, 
retrospection is always sad — much sadder when 
it extends through centuries. Besides, this New 
World will also, some day, have its poetry. And 
it will have its own art, which will be beautiful 
(and why not ?), differing from ancient art, in so 
much as its materials and mechanical processes 
differ from those of other days. What I wish 
for us is to be able to forget entirely Europe’s 
art in order to resurrect it in other conditions of 
material and sentimental life. 

“ But what need have I now of the plastic rep- 
resentations of the reality? I feel myself born 
again ; my body is stronger. I pass my days on 
horseback amid the most glorious landscapes, 
where the air is as sweet and as pure as that 
breathed in by the first man between the four 
rivers. I watch sunsets which give me, I cannot 
explain how, the direct impression of the form 
of the earth, of the shape of the astral system 
of which it forms a part, and of the cosmic 
infinity. Every man who complains of living 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 335 

and who sees is a liar. Suicide only proves that 
they have found more sadness than pleasure in 
life. I give to the unbeliever what I formerly 
gave to the melancholy dreamer. I am happy. 

“I will not write again to you. When you 
have been dethroned, which will not be long in 
happening, let me know through the journals ; if 
it pleases you to come and join me, I will give 
you the necessary information. 

“ I embrace you and I sign for the last time, 

u Renaud.” 


XXXV. 


Christian XVI. became weaker and weaker 
every day. Nevertheless lie had insisted upon 
donning his military uniform for the abdication 
ceremony. But the throne of his ancestor, Otto 
III., was too uncomfortable and too hard, and 
they had, therefore, placed him at its foot in his 
invalid’s chair. 

The Regent, Wilhelmine, entered first, holding 
little Wilhelm by the hand, who strutted along 
quite proud of his uniform of Colonel of the 
Guard. 

u Sire,” she said, u bless your grandson.” 

The old man placed his heavy knotted hand 
upon the large head of the delicate child. 

“ Little child, little king come too late. I pray 
that God may give thee the spirit of strength, of 
justice, and of prudence. That He may always 
teach thee to know the truth, and may thou be 
happier and less troubled than thy father !”J 

When the court, in deep mourning, had been 
ranged on both sides of the throne, King Chris- 
tian, very old, his complexion waxy in its pallor, 

336 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT . 337 

his white beard spread out over his tunic, half 
hiding the ribbon of the Blue Eagle, said in a 
feeble, wavering voice : 

“M. the Grand Chancellor, will you be 
kind enough to read our act of abdiction, and 
that by which we constitute Her Royal High- 
ness, the Princess of Marbourg, Regent of the 
Kingdom ? ” 

The Grand Chancellor, Count de Moellnitz, 
standing before a square table covered with a 
purple cloth, trimmed with gold fringe— the royal 
table of the historical melodramas — unrolled a 
parchment, from which hung a red seal, larger 
than a host ; and scanning the phrases and shak- 
ing his little bird-like head, he read the following 
with the slowness and the intonations of an 
officiating archbishop : 

“We, Christian XVI., by the grace of God, 
King of Alfaine, to all here present and to come, 
give greeting. 

“In consideration ” 

A great uproar rising from outdoors drowned 
the sound of his voice. The King had been will- 
ing that his subjects should be allowed a certain 
liberty in the streets that day, and had ordered 
that the gardens should be thrown open to them ; 
thinking that the x’emembrance of the two tragic 


338 PRINCE HERMANN. \ REGENT. 

murders and the tender age of the little orphan 
King, would touch the cliild-like heart of the 
people. The crowd had gathered under the win- 
dows of the throne room, at first simply curious 
and uncertain of its own sentiments. But some 
men had glided among them, distributing sheets 
which set forth the unjust condemnation to death 
of the old woman, Andotia Latanief ; the 
odiousness of the accusations brought against 
the whole socialistic party, and the insolence of 
the decree which confided the regency to the 
most unpopular of all, the princess. And soon 
the clamor of an uprising was heard under the 

walls of the palace. 

Moellnitz interrupted his reading. The clamor 
grew, became confused and menacing. 

“Show yourself, Madame,” said the King to 
Wilhelmine. 

A liuzzar opened the window and the Princess 
stepped out on the balcony. 

The clamor rose stronger and more distinct, 
even into the throne room. Cries could be 
heard of : 

“Down with the Regent ! ” 

Wilhelmine, her head erect, stood motionless 
under her black veils. 

Then Christian XVI. caused himself to be 


PRINCE HERMANN, REGENT. 339 

rolled in his death chair to the side of the 
Princess. 

The people were hushed at the sight of the 
old sovereign. The silence was oppressive ! It 
was that of respect without love. 

Suddenly the Princess re-entered the room ; 
she caught up little Wilhelm, who was trembling 
in every limb and who stammered out : 
“Mamma, lam afraid!” She lifted the child 
in her arms and showed him to the people. 

For a few moments the crowd were silent, 
then a vague and hesitating murmur. Then 
a woman’ s voice could be clearly heard say- 
ing : 

“ How cunning he is !” 

Another voice cried out : 

“ Long live the King ! ” 

The cry spread and soon became an unanimous 
cheer : 

“ Long live the King ! Long live the King ! ” 
The Grand Chancellor, Count de Moellnitz, 
leaned toward the Minister Hellborn, who had 
by this time become his best friend : 

“Oh, that is perfect! We will show him to 
the people from time to time ! ” 

“Poor little one,” said Hellborn, “they are 
sorry for him. How long will it last ? ” 


340 FRINGE HERMANN, REGENT. 

The next day at daybreak Andotia Latanief 
was hanged. The entire police force, on foot, 
and all the cavalry regiments preserved order. 

A few hours later they found in the Lady’s 
Lake, in the Park at Orsova, Frida de Thalberg’s 
corpse. A man passing by had perceived, by 
chance, the long tresses of her red gold hair en- 
tangled in the rushes on the banks. 


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sibilities in this sphere of usefulness.” — Boston Courier . 


FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 


CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

104 and 106 Fourth Avenue, New York. 

82 


A NEW NOVEL BY GRANT ALLEN. 

BLOOD ROYAL. 

A NOVEL. 

By GRANT ALLEN, 

Author of “ In All Shades “ This Mortal Coilf etc ., etc. 

i vol., i2mo, cloth, 75 cents ; paper, 50 cents. 


41 The name of Grant Allen is well known in the world of fiction, but it may be 
questioned whether he has ever before produced anything so charming as this 
tale.” — Philadelphia Item. 

“ Vivacious and entertaining.” — Literary World. 

“ Full of incidents that stir the blood though the truth of nature is not departed 
from.” — Brooklyn Citizen. 

“ A flavor of Dickens.” — New York Evening Telegram. 

“ Every separate character is a valuable study, and the masterly grouping of the 
whole is beyond all praise.” — Ansonia Sentinel. 

“Thoroughly entertaining.” — Charleston News and Courier. 

“ The story shows the folly of basing one’s conduct on the shams rather than 
the verities of life, and is told in a most pleasing manner.” — Hartford Times. 

“ One of the best of his novels.” — Chicago Herald. 

“ A deeper thought behind it than is found in most novels of our day.” — New 
York Commercial Advertiser. 

“ Should attract many lovers of good fiction.” — Boston Saturday Evening 
Gazette. 

“ Extremely readable.” — San Frajicisco Chronicle. 

44 Charmingly told, and from first to last has a strong and, at times, a very 
pathetic interest.” — Boston Home Journal. 


FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 

CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

104 & 106 FOURTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 

89 


ELISIA. 


NURS 



A NOVEL. 

BY 

G. MANVILLE FENN, 

Author of “ Commodore Junkf etc. 


I Vol., i 2 mo, Extra Cloth, $1.00. 


“ The story is one of great human interest ; the characters are real.” — Review 
of Reviews. 

“ Fresh and absorbing.” — Philadelphia Evening Bulletin. 

41 That popular novelist, G. Manville Fenn, has never written a more attractive 
story — and this is about the highest praise we could give it — than his ‘Nurse 
Elisia.’ ” — Boston Daily Traveller. 

44 A bright, dashing tale.” — Noah's [New York ] Times. 

“ Possesses much originality.” — Syracuse Evening Star. 

“ Illustrates in a high degree the qualities of fancy and romantic sentiment 
which have already made the author’s previous works famous.” — Philadelphia 
Evening Item. 

“ Cleverly told.” — Godey's Magazine. 

44 It is more than an open question whether Mr. Fenn has ever approached, in 
any previous work, the strong interest that enthralls the reader in 4 Nurse 
Elisia.’ ” — Boston Budget. 

44 A liveliness and swiftness of movement which have gone nigh to being a lost 
art among novelists.” — New York Commercial Advertiser. 

44 The plot of the story is developed with great skill and the characters are 
drawn with remarkable strength, originality, and beauty.” — New York Sunday 
Mercury. 


FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 


CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

104 & 106 Fourth Avenue, New York. 


93 





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